#that’s it I won’t be extending on this

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Going to the library with Harris is a great way to escape the heat. But with Harris and Hendrix? You just might lose your mind.

TW: pregnant!Reader, mentions of postpartum difficulties, just a ton of fluff

WC: 1.3k

Divider credit to @saradika

August 1999

It’s hot. 

The sun beats down on you the moment you step out of your car and begin walking across the parking lot.  

“Wait for me, Har,” you call out from where you trail behind him. 

You used to spend summers lounging by the public pool—usually with a book in hand. Though being a parent to Harris meant that you found yourself donning a swimsuit and joining him, dodging the water that splashed each time he kicked his feet. 

This summer is different, the heat less tolerable now that you’re six months pregnant. Being anywhere without air conditioning for an extended period of time is akin to torture. Which is why you and Harris spend most of your days at the Hawkins Public Library.

Harris slows to a stop, only walking again once you’ve reached his side. 

“Can we take Baby Brother to the library when he’s born?”

You take his hand in yours. “Of course.” A pause, then the necessary clarification. “Well, not right when he’s born. But once he’s a little older, we can definitely bring him along.”

Harris nods, content with the response, as he bounds towards the doors. He holds it open for you, leaning his whole body up against the frame. It was something he’d learned after watching his dad hold doors open for you. If baby brain doesn’t interfere, you’ll have to tell Eddie about it.

The library hosts various kid-friendly activities, and Harris is no stranger to arts and crafts. Since school let out, your home has become increasingly filled with glitter-coated popsicle picture frames and macaroni necklaces. But there’s nothing on the schedule today, which means an afternoon spent reading.

You find a seat in the children’s section, making yourself as comfortable as you can in the small chairs. Harris flits from shelf to shelf, grabbing every book that catches his eye until he has a pile he can barely hold.

“Okay, Mom,” he grunts behind his stack of books. “I’m ready.”

With a wince, you stand up and help him carry the books to the table. There’s the slew of usuals: Green Eggs and Ham (he insists you read each page in one breath), If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, and The Mitten. But Harris plucks a new one from the stack: Where the Wild Things Are.

“I’m gonna read this one to Baby Brother,” he says, plopping down on the chair next to you. “If I teach him about monsters now, then he won’t grow up to be afraid of ‘em.”

You nod, refusing to argue with his logic. Who knows–he may be right.

Harris opens to the first page, placing one finger on the first word. “The night Max w-w-wore his wolf s-s-s-uh…” He looks up at you, a wrinkle in his brow. “Can you help me? Just with the tricky words.”

His reading has vastly improved thanks to the extra instruction he receives at school, and you’re more than happy to fill in when he needs it. “Suit.”

“Right. Suit.” He starts again. “The night Max wore his wolf suit and mad–made mis-cuh-huh…no, wait, that makes the ch sound…” His little tongue pokes between his lips, another habit he’s picked up from Eddie.

“Mischief.” Your eyes sparkle. “Like what you like to cause.”

He giggles, continuing to read until he gets to the pages where the full pages are illustrations of the wild rumpus. “Is Baby Brother listening?” He peers down at your bump and rests his hand on top. “Hey, are you listening in there?”

You can’t help but laugh at his questioning. “He must be. He hasn’t moved too much since you started reading. And lately he’s been squirming around in there.”

It’s a good enough explanation to Harris, and he picks up where he left off. “Okay, I know you can’t see this, but now the wild things are having, like, a dance party. They’re going stomp, stomp, stomp.” He mimics the monsters’ movements, feet stamping the colorful carpeted floor.

He finishes the book, closing it with a triumphant thwack. “Can you read to me now?” he asks you.

“Of course.” You take Green Eggs and Ham–his favorite. Something about the repetition tickles his brain just right. Before you know it, Harris is doing his jumps, leaning on the table and jumping each time you read a sentence starting with “I do not like…”

It’s the last summer of just you and Harris, and you take an extra moment to cherish it. Next year, you’ll have two sons to read to–what more could you ask for?

August 2000

You’re exhausted. Running on fumes.

Hendrix has been waking up multiple times per night, thanks to the tiny teeth ripping through his gums. Since you’re off of work for the summer, you take the brunt of the night shift. It makes sense, but you still find yourself scowling at a still-sleeping Eddie each time you pad past his side of the bed and into the nursery.

When Hendrix woke up just after 7 A.M., you walked in to find that he’d had a major diaper blowout. How any nine-month-old could produce that much poop was beyond your comprehension.

Once you’d disposed of his soiled pajamas and bathed him, you hit another roadblock: a Harris tantrum. In your sleep deprived state, you had forgotten to pick up his latest go-to cereal at Bradley’s Big Buy. And when Harris opened the pantry and found an absence of Chex, melted down. You finally got him to catch his breath by promising to stop off at the grocery store on the way home from the library–if you ever got there.

Despite the odds, you managed to get both boys into the car. With a baby on your hip and an almost-third-grader by your side, you take a deep breath and push aside the morning’s frustrations. 

Harris places his old books on the return counter and makes a beeline for the children’s section. The moment he’s out of sight, Hendrix begins to wiggle and whine. 

“Okay, buddy,” you murmur, fielding glares from library patrons who had been savoring the silence, “just give Har a second to get some new–”

Hendrix’s shriek pierces the air, filling you with embarrassment and sending you rushing towards Harris to hurry him up.

“Mom, look! It’s the book I read to Hendrix when he was in your tummy!” He holds up Where the Wild Things Are. “I wonder if he remembers it.”

The baby wails again, and you gently shush and bounce him, though your efforts appear futile.

“Maybe. Why don’t you check it out and we can read it to him at home?”

Harris scrunches up his nose. “We’re not gonna read here?”

You shake your head. “Not today. Hendrix isn’t in a very good mood. He’s teething, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” Harris purses his lips. “Can I see something? Can you put him down for a second?”

“Har, he’s gonna crawl–”

“Just for a second, Mom!”

You sigh, defeated, and you place the baby on the carpet. Sure enough, he starts crawling away, under tables and chairs and heading for the bookshelves. But before you can scoop him up, Harris kneels on both knees, book open, and begins scooting after him.  

“The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mis–mischief of one kind,” he reads as he follows his little brother, unbothered at the prospect of being on the move. “And another…”

Hendrix weaves in and out of the aisles, but Harris is right on his tail. Screeching is quickly replaced with baby giggles, and the next time Hendrix peeks his head out from behind the shelves, there’s a smile on his face that shows all five of his teeth.

“C’mon, let’s have a wild rumpus!” Harris glances at you. “Mom, you gotta rumpus with us!”

And who are you to deny your son–and your lifesaver for the day–a wild rumpus?

--

[gilbertscurls]

campaign — matt sturniolo

summary: the face of prada and the youtuber-ambassador do a campaign together.

The blinding studio lights illuminated the sleek set, a testament to luxury and high fashion. The Prada campaign was buzzing with energy, cameras clicking, assistants rushing, and stylists adjusting the tiniest of details. It was just another day in your world, where you were the face of Prada, the embodiment of elegance and confidence. But today, there was a shift in the usual routine—a new addition to the campaign.

Matt Sturniolo.

You’d heard his name before, of course. Who hadn’t? The wildly popular YouTuber turned Prada ambassador had been making waves, blending his relatable charm with high fashion in a way that seemed effortless. His face had been plastered across billboards, his smile as familiar as an old friend’s to millions of fans. And now, he was standing just a few feet away, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his usually casual demeanor sharpened by the edges of Prada’s luxury.

You adjusted your stance, turning slightly as the photographer called out directions, but your gaze flickered to Matt. He was laughing with the crew, a sound that somehow cut through the controlled chaos. There was something disarming about him. He didn’t seem fazed by the glitz or the pressure, his easygoing nature making it clear he was just as comfortable here as he was in front of a vlog camera.

“Alright, let’s bring you two together for this next shot,” the director called, motioning for Matt to step onto the platform beside you. He approached with a confident stride, but his eyes held a spark of curiosity as they met yours.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm. “Matt.”

You extended a hand, offering a small smile. “I know. You’re everywhere these days. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” he interrupted, his grin widening. “Hard to miss the face of Prada.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his candor. “I guess we’re officially colleagues now.”

“Guess so,” he said, stepping into position beside you. “Try to go easy on me. This is more your world than mine.”

The photographer began snapping away, calling out instructions, but you couldn’t help stealing glances at Matt. Despite his self-deprecating remark, he was a natural. He moved with an effortless confidence, his boyish charm contrasting beautifully with the sharp lines of the suit he wore. When the photographer asked you to interact, it felt surprisingly easy. A shared laugh here, a subtle touch there—it was all organic, as though the two of you had known each other far longer than a few minutes.

“Not bad,” you murmured during a brief pause, tilting your head to look at him. “You might just have a future in this.”

He smirked, leaning slightly closer. “Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

The shoot continued, but the atmosphere shifted. What started as a professional collaboration turned into something more playful, more personal. Between shots, you exchanged quips and stories, his humor cutting through the usual stiffness of the fashion world. You found yourself drawn to the way he balanced confidence with humility, how he seemed genuinely interested in the world you navigated daily.

As the session wrapped up, the director praised the chemistry between you two, calling it “magnetic.” You couldn’t help but agree. Matt lingered as the crew began to pack up, his gaze catching yours one last time.

“So,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets, “what’s next for the face of Prada?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Probably another campaign. You?”

“Filming a car video,” he said, deadpan.

You laughed, the sound surprising even yourself. “Quite the contrast.”

“Hey, it keeps me grounded,” he said with a shrug. Then, after a beat, he added, “You know, this was fun. Maybe we’ll run into each other again on set.”

“Maybe,” you said, holding his gaze. “Or maybe we won’t have to wait for another campaign.”

The suggestion hung in the air, subtle but undeniable. His smile softened, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded.

“I’d like that,” he said simply.

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted—not just in your day, but in your world. It wasn’t every day that you met someone who could stand out in the dazzling chaos of your life. But then again, Matt Sturniolo wasn’t like anyone else.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13, @frankdelreyy

[star-suh]

Titfest Anthology

Kim Mingyu, Song Mingi and Lee Jeno x Male Reader

—

he doesn’t even know how it started but he was enjoying it now, yn somehow managed to convince the three most popular guys to let him titfuck them. kim mingyu, a football player that always wears that tight uniform shirt that hugs his big chest and slutty waist so delightfully. song mingi the gym addicted guy always wearing those compression shirts. finally lee jeno, part of the swimming team and known playboy, his tits were always out but when he wears shirts, fuck, that sight alone drives yn crazy.

mingyu:

“i love man tits” yn murmures always when one of the three passes in front of him, “hey ynnie” migyu cutely greets, despite his big manly frame and somehow scary gaze he’s actually a loving and caring person like a ray of sunshine. “hey mingyu, what’s up?” yn greets him back, “nothing i’m just going to take a shower, you know, i hate being all sweaty and sticky”, yn sees this as an opportunity to shoot his shot, “i was just thinking the same you know, it’s been so hot today but i can’t enter the showers, it’s for athletes only haha”, yn looks down to the ground. “come with me then. i’m sure you can come in if they see you are coming with me” mingyu extended his arm towards yn, a somewhat scary grin creeping up on his face ‘fuck yeah’ he thinks, “okay mingyu you’re so nice, i feel like i have to pay you this favor back”. they walk towards the bathrooms, “there’s no need to that” a flustered mingyu says scratching the back of his neck, “no i insist”, millions of pervy thoughts and scenarios taking over his mind. suddenly in the middle of his shower, yn enters mingyu’s stall with puppy eyes he says “can you please help me scrub my lower back?” and mingyu as the sweetheart/ himbo he is, complied. “my turn now” yn says, his hands roaming around mingyu’s wide back. at first it was good for mingyu but then it turned into something more… erotic?, “y-yn what are you doing?” he asks when the other’s hands start to grope his wet soapy chest. yn’s hands went up and down, grabbing a handful of those muscle tits that bounce every time yn’s hands went up. his fingers massaged those pretty perky nipples “it’s like they were made for me to use, don’t you think?” yn whispers sexily to mingyu’s ears, “yn i- i don’t know but i want more.. hngh!”, “such a good boy you are gyu” yn licks a stripe on the back of his neck.

“fuck yes, keep it like that” yn growls in pleasure, he finally is fucking those magnificent tits he always dreamt of, “harder?” mingyu asks, “yes please” yn replies. mingyu squeezed his chest harder than before to create more friction for yn’s dick that was aching red, begging to release but thankfully mingyu’s tits and his pretty mouth sucking the tip of it helped to relieve it a bit. “fuck mingyu i’m so close”, yn’s sloppy titfuck ended with him releasing all his pent up cum in a bit spurt that painted mingyu’s face and chest in white, “fuck -ahhh-” yn pants, “you look godly like this” he praises mingyu after helping him stand up, “i hope i can see you like this more often”, “mhmm” migyu nods while cleaning himself, “good boy” and with a kiss they both sealed what it looks like a deal.

mingi:

“1 out of 3” yn blurted out while walking towards the gym in where mingi works out, let’s say yn didn’t know much about how those fancy gym devices work or in what posture he has to sit or stand so his back won’t get hurt in the process so naturally one of the veteran gym users came to help and luckily it was the song mingi “hey bro, are you new here?”, curiosity laced on his words, “ahh yeah bro hehe” yn pretends to be flustered, “you need help?” mingi offers his help and without thinking about it yn accepts quickly. days passed and a friendship blossomed between them, and that’s when the ‘bro jokes’ started with mingi sometimes pinching yn’s nipples through the shirt’s fabric but yn didn’t stayed behind and did the same to mingi, his hard nipples peeking through the tight compression shirt made them easy to spot and pinch but these type of jokes just escalated quickly into more pervy things, whenever mingi sees yn he slaps his butt or straight up grabs his bulge so it was natural that he wanted to get his payback. once again in a shower setting, this time in the gym, but they were so used to treat each other like that, that there’s no surprise they showered together, a certain homoerotic atmosphere always forming around them when they are together, the tension grew uncontrollably until yn decided to break it the best way he could think.

immediately afterwards he just kissed mingi and played with his nipples, after minutes of making out yn went down leaving a trail of kisses until he finally reached the other’s chest, carefully he bit the hard nipple while still playing with the other. his tongue swirled on the bud leaving it all slobbery, “fuck yn you know how to work with that tongue” mingi moaned, one of his hands going down to stroke his throbbing shaft. they kept going, giving into his carnal desires not caring that they’re in a public space and that someone could catch them.

the water going down their bodies wasn’t enough to calm the heat they were feeling, mingi with no warming pushed yn’s face in between his chest wanting to feel more of that tongue, “you better leave them nice and puffy or else i would revoke your walking privileges” this threat instead of making him afraid just made his hole pulsate in joy but that’s not what he wants today, “i have a better idea” yn pushes mingi to his kness and position his dick in between them, “be a good bitch and squeeze them for me” yn demanded and made mingi smile, “as you wish sir”. the titfucking session continued until they both came, their sticky juices covering the floor and mingi’s face, “come clean it hoe” mingi grabbed yn by the back of his neck and forced him to lick his face clean of cum, “next time the fucking won’t be on my chest but your ass so you better prepare it” with a last spank he lefts the shower withan exciting yn sighing cheerfully “2 out of 3”.

jeno:

it wasn’t hard for yn to flirt with jeno, after all he’s known as the campus playboy who flirt with whoever he wanted butin one of those flirts yn, as the big chest obsessed he is, flicked his finger on one of jeno’s nipples. yn laughed but jeno didn’t, thinking he fucked hiss opportunity up he turned his head to where jeno was sitting just to see his face flushed and his eyes teary, “what-” he asked to himself then something clicked. “your nipples are sensitive?” he asked and jeno nodded holding back a whimper, “i put tape on them but it seems it don’t work” he explains, “let’s go” a flushed yn grabbed his hand and guided him towards his room, ‘fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck! sensitive nipples holy fuckkk!!!’ his mind went wild, this time he didn’t try to persuade him like the other he just went straight to business. when he closed the door, yn pushed jeno against it and kissed him, a surprised grimace appear on jeno’s face, what was happening now and why is he giving in?, the answer was easy, yn was toying with his nipples so the overstimulation hit him way faster than it should, his brain turning into a pulp of lust. “you’re so fucking hot lee jeno” yn slapped his hard cock on his chest and brushed the swollen nipples with his precum covered tip, “i wonder how would you looked covered in my spooge”, he continued to drag his cock across the chest, “what do you think hmm?” jeno who was already jerking off agreed, “but only if i get to do the same with you” and yn nodded.

he poured some lube stored in one of yn’s drawers, leaving his cock and jeno’s toned body glistening and sloppy, “perfect” he starts to thrust but this time jeno used one of his hands to press his chest together and put the other hand on top of yn’s dick so in that way he can get a more pleasurable friction and therefore cumming faster than he should, yn played dirty with jeno, brushing his nipples from time to time to make him moan and cum fast too but jeno didn’t stayed behind, he took advantage of the thrustings to spit on it, “you bitch, you’re making it more slippery on purpose” yn complains,”and you’re trying to make me more needy by touching my fucking nipples”. “smart boy” yn mocks just to proceed and pinch the other’s buds and pull them as hard as he could. jeno emitted a guttural moan, cumming instantly, soaking his underwear that was rolled down his shaft, just covering his balls.

he leaned against the door, feeling defeated but horny, the immense pleasure leaving him dumb at this point, “be a nice pair of tits now and let me cum, yeah?” yn mocked and resumed the titfucking. when he was about to cum he lined his cock right above jeno’s face, threads of gooey spooge falling on the other’s face, rolling down to his chest and landing on his chest. “nicee” he sighed, trying to catch his breath but when he turns around he fell to the floor, jeno had pushed him and then sat on his chest, “you agreed i get to do the same to you, but i change my mind”, “whahh-” yn didn’t get to finish his question when jeno’s dick entered his mouth and as if his mouth was a fleshlight jeno fucked it until he got his throat flooded in cum, “swallow it all or i won’t pull out” tears pooling on yn’s eyes who was starting to cough some droplets of it, he swallowed the load little by little until his throat was completely unclogged of cum, “good boy” jeno smirked and slapped yn’s cheek who sits up quickly to cough, “don’t break your deals next time or it will be worse” jeno then leaves, leaving a bewildered yn by how he turned from a needy tit sensitive fucker to a dom one so quickly.

after all those three encounters yn now has a titfucking schedule, assigning days to each one of them to go and fuck their chests but it didn’t stopped there, now some fucking were added to the mix, yn gets to fuck them or they fucked him but anything just to touch those glorious manboobs each one of them has, “this is a fucking paradise” yn exclaims while being surrounded by three pairs of big bouncy tits.

[penumbra-mayhem]

Transfem Angel thoughts...

When Angel comes out to David as trans, she’s met with a confused look and a “yeah, I already knew that”. Then when she (a little fearfully) asks how he knew, David furrows his brow and reveals that he is trans, too. Didn’t she know? (she didn’t) David goes on to explain that he’s very good at sniffing out his own kind (no pun intended).

The first time David invites Angel to a pack meeting, she’s hesitant to go. David thinks it’s because she’s unempowered. He starts to tell her that they won’t care, as long as she’s respectful, and that one of his pack mates has been dating an unempowered person for years—

She cuts him off. That’s not it; rather, will they mind a trans woman being there? Sure, they might be okay with David, but sometimes those exceptions only extend to family, and no one further (i.e. he's one of the "good ones"). Imagine Angel’s delight when David explains that shifters have historically been very trans-positive, more than any other empowered group of people.

Shifters' whole identity/culture revolves around the idea that their bodies can change and that they don’t have one, "true", static shape or form. Changing your gender/sex doesn’t seem so unusual when you can change into a freaking wolf.

——————————

@piltie-angel i told you like a month ago that i’d tag you in any transfem angel stuff i wrote, so here u go!! :D

[reidphobic]

🎟️your ticket to spill your dad!spencer thoughts

thank u so much for this opportunity… so i’m sure we all know spencer is a girldad but the two of you have a literal horde of daughters. four, to be exact. your eldest, daphne diana (yes, he cried when you suggested the name) took you completely by surprise, two pink lines a positive blood test confirming you don’t just have a bout of terrible food poisoning.

you’re a little afraid, but there’s nobody you’d rather have at your side. spencer absolutely dotes on you through your pregnancy, at your side every minute he’s not on a case. he won’t even let you reach for anything above eye-level, for god’s sake!

and it’s only magnified when she’s born, and she’s so tiny that spencer’s palm is the size of her little face, and he’s rocking her and cooing softly, and you’re delirious and still in pain and flooded with hormones, and you just burst into tears. everything’s perfect, you say at his concerned look. everything’s the most perfect it’s ever been. i hope she takes after you, you say dreamily.

she won’t, if she knows what’s good for her, he quips. most beautiful girl in the world for a mom, and you want her to take after me?

your next daughter is planned, or at least intended to be. daphne’s about two, and already showing signs of being as smart as her father. don’t you think she’d be a good big sister? you murmur, watching him chatter away enthusiastically to her almost-words. only one way to find out.

and then you get an ultrasound. there’s two of them?! what did you do to me? you demand. spencer looks sheepish, as if it’s actually his fault. daphne seems frankly baffled by the concept, insists on asking where the baby is almost every day of your pregnancy. she’s even more confused when you bring two babies home: adeline alexandra and eloise emily. when they’re born, spencer takes an extended sabbatical, and having him consistently at home with you is like a dream.

by the time daphne is five and addie and eloise are three, you’re itching for that sweet new baby smell again. please? you whine, draping yourself over your husband as your eldest daughter covers his fingertips in pink, sparkly nail polish. just one more? you’re so great with them. and you lean in, murmur so your daughters can’t hear. and i know you love how i look pregnant.

you’re regretting that choice in the delivery room for the third time. stop putting daughters in me! you screech. they bite me and destroy my stuff and my house is covered in pink plastic crap! stop it! spencer looks genuinely guilty. but then she’s born, and you forget all of it.

piper penelope is your forever baby, utterly adored by her parents, her sisters, everyone she meets. she shares her namesake’s bubbly personality, a chatterbox from the minute she can talk. of your daughters, she looks the most like her father, and you can tell from the first time spencer sees her how happy it makes him.

the five of you are crammed into a pillow fort your bossy second-born insisted you build, spencer’s lanky frame hunched over and wearing a smile so wide his cheeks must hurt. can you tell us a story, daddy? says daphne, the big brown eyes she inherited from her father shining up at him. you guys want to hear a story? four tiny, overlapping voices cheer and you pull little piper into your arms. let me ask you this, have you ever heard the one about…

(and, yes, all their namesakes did cry upon finding out you and spencer named your daughters after them)

[mixingandmelting]

Hii,

I'm not sure if your requests are open but I wanted to ask you if you could write a Dick Grayson x reader one where the reader is the daughter of one of Bruce's business partners and they meet at some sort of charity gala and he's instantly smitten with her.

Feel free to ignore this if you have too much to do.

Thanks ❤️

Witty, charming, and someone who matches his humor. He didn’t think he’d hit the jackpot tonight. Initially he had simply wanted to keep you company after seeing you all alone at your table. He expected either shy and sheltered or spoiled and flirty.

“A table for one at a gala?”

“What do you mean? Can’t you see I’m actually with three others?”

“Oh really? And they are…?”

“Me, myself and I.”

It comes with a pleasant surprise how the roles reverse and it’s him getting entertained by you. He lost track of how long he stayed at your table, unable to stop himself from chatting with you. You’re where the party’s at in this boring event and it confuses him how no one else has attempted to strike up a conversation with you for this long. Not that he’s complaining; he’s plenty satisfied to have you to himself. Your jokes draw genuine laughter from him while your laughter is just as infectious. The way your eyes sparkle and crinkle as you do- he rests his head onto his hand, admiring it and not wanting it to disappear. He can’t get enough. 

There’s no barrier or rich people’s behavior seen despite you introducing yourself as the daughter of one of Bruce’s many business partners and him as Bruce Wayne’s adoptive son not too long ago. Not even an hour in and you both are acting as friends that haven’t seen each other in ages. Perhaps even more if he plays his cards right tonight. Take you out for a nice walk. Grab something to eat. If you’re into it, watch a movie. All of the ideas that come from him jesting about rich people never imagining or having no knowledge of what the common people do for fun only for you to snort about how else were you to learn to talk and behave like them then. 

“Earth to Dick?”

Oops. He flushes under the smirk that dances on your lips, caught red-handed for day-dreaming his date with you. Not that you’d know the last part, but still.

“Am I starting to bore you yet?”

Yet? This whole time you were trying to get rid of him? The grin you give as you take a sip of whatever’s in your flute tells him otherwise. Returning one of his own, he’s about to respond before someone behind him calls your name. 

Turning around are your parents, walking side-by-side with none other than Bruce who raises an eyebrow at him. Ugh. Great. He most definitely won’t hear the end of this one. Looking back at you, he catches a spark of wistfulness in your eyes that quickly disappears as you give him one last smile. 

“Seems like that’s my cue.”

“Wait.” He’s conscious with his grip on your arm, gentle yet firm to grab your attention. “If you’re into it, mind giving me your number and we can hang out later?”

You bite your lip when you’re thinking. Good to know; definitely something that won’t leave his mind for a while. He tries not to show how giddy he is when you extend your phone out towards him. Giving him a tiny wave, you leave while telling him you would text him. The rest of the night goes uneventful as he mingles with others, half paying attention to what they say as he continues to think about you. Others including his family who wouldn’t stop giving him crap. 

It’s once he reaches back to his place and comes out of the showers, he gets a text. Drying his hair with a towel in one hand, he looks to see your name with a sunglasses emoji under your number. His heart somersaults and he fist pumps the air. He can regret not sleeping tomorrow morning, for now all he wants is to talk to you and make the date between you and him a reality.

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Bar Fight

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  Jenson Button x Teammate!Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

Did the race go well? No, not certainly. Was she still going to the club after it? Yes, very much. Not because she liked clubbing, that was not really her vibe, but having Jenson as a teammate made her do many reckless things, as that suave smile always heard a ‘yes’ as an answer.

The music pulsed around her, a heavy bassline vibrating through the crowded VIP section of the club. Lights flashed in rapid succession, casting alternating shadows and bright colors across the space. She leaned against the bar, drink in hand, standing next to the friend she had somehow roped into this. Despite the energy of the room, she wasn’t quite in the mood, her earlier frustration from the race still lingering beneath the surface.

Jenson appeared out of nowhere, his easy charm and that familiar grin cutting through the haze of the club. He was a natural here—relaxed, effortless, like the chaos of the dancefloor was just another race he’d mastered.

“C’mon,” he said, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. His voice was playful, teasing, yet with that undertone of genuine persuasion. “You look like you’re plotting your escape.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Not much of a club person, remember?”

“But here you are,” he countered, the glint in his eye daring her to argue. “If you’re going to come, at least try to have fun. Live a little.”

“I am living,” she shot back, taking a sip of her drink and gesturing toward the lively scene around them. “See? Living.”

Jenson rolled his eyes, stepping closer, his tone mockingly conspiratorial. “Standing still and people-watching doesn’t count as living, you know.”

Her friend stifled a laugh, clearly entertained by the exchange, while Jenson extended a hand toward her, that confident grin widening. “One dance. Just one. You’re not leaving until you’ve at least pretended to enjoy yourself.”

She looked at his outstretched hand, then back at him, the challenge clear in his expression. He always knew how to get under her skin in just the right way. Still, she was not going to dance.

“Ugh, you’re so impossible sometimes,” he said teasingly, before ordering some shots with amusing ease.

The bartender lined up the shots in front of them, the liquid catching the strobing lights of the club. Jenson slid one toward her, his grin only widening when she gave him a skeptical look.

“C’mon,” he said, holding his own shot up. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk that crept onto her face. “You say that now, but you’ll regret it when I’m hungover during the flight.”

Jenson chuckled, leaning closer. “I’ll take my chances. Besides, maybe this’ll finally get you to loosen up a bit.”

With a sigh and a playful shake of her head, she clinked her glass against his. “Fine. But just this one.”

“Sure, sure,” he replied with a wink, throwing the shot back effortlessly.

She followed suit, the sharp burn of the alcohol quickly replaced by a warm buzz that spread through her chest. Jenson didn’t waste a second, sliding another shot her way. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged innocently. “One more won’t hurt.”

And so it went. One shot turned into two, and then three, until the tension from the race started to melt away. The music felt a little less grating, the crowd a little less overwhelming. She found herself laughing at Jenson’s exaggerated stories, his easy charisma impossible to resist.

By the time the bartender cut them off from ordering more, she was grinning, her usual guarded demeanor slipping away. “Okay,” she admitted, leaning on the counter. “Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea.”

Jenson smirked triumphantly, leaning back against the bar. “See? Told you. You just needed to trust me.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the laughter that escaped her lips. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” he teased, tapping his temple. “Now, are you ready to actually have some fun?”

“I thought this was fun,” she shot back, but her words were lighter now, her smile lingering.

He gave her a playful bad look. “Yeah, no,” he grinned, “we said one dance,” he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes, but agreed, as he was already grabbing her wrist to head her to the dance floor. “I borrow her for a sec,” he said to her friend.

Her friend just smirked knowingly and waved them off, clearly amused by the dynamic. Jenson’s grip on her wrist was firm but gentle as he led her through the crowd, weaving past people with an ease that only he could manage in such chaos.

Jenson twirled her around playfully, her laughter blending with the thumping bass of the music. For a moment, she was genuinely enjoying herself, her movements light and carefree as Jenson’s grin urged her on.

It was all fine until her elbow accidentally bumped into someone holding a drink, sending a splash of liquid onto the woman’s outfit.

“Are you kidding me?” the woman snapped, glaring down at the stain on her dress and her now-empty glass.

She froze, turning immediately. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, her tone sincere. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course you didn’t,” the woman interrupted, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she looked her up and down. “You’re too busy living in your own little bubble to notice anyone else.”

Her brows furrowed, irritation bubbling up, but she pushed it down. “Look, I’ll buy you another drink,” she offered, keeping her voice even.

The woman rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sure, like that’s going to fix anything,” she said sharply. Her gaze shifted, taking in Jenson standing beside her, his brow raised. Recognition flickered across her face, but instead of softening, her expression hardened further.

“Oh, great,” the woman sneered. “Figures. A couple of spoiled rich kids. Probably think the world revolves around you because you can drive fast cars and look pretty.”

Her jaw tightened, her earlier patience quickly wearing thin. “I said it was an accident,” she repeated, her tone firmer now.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should try paying attention,” the woman snapped. “Not everyone has the luxury of walking around like they own the place.”

Jenson stepped in before she could respond, his calm demeanor masking his growing annoyance. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said, his voice steady but laced with warning. “It was an accident, and she’s apologized.”

The woman let out a deadpan laugh, crossing her arms. “Of course you’d jump in. Can’t let your little teammate take any responsibility, can you?”

She clenched her fists, taking a deep breath to keep herself from snapping back. But the woman wasn’t done. “Bet you’re used to people cleaning up after your messes, aren’t you? Must be nice.”

That did it. Her composure cracked, and she stepped forward, her voice low and sharp. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked tightly. “I apologized, and I offered to make it right. But if you’re so determined to throw a tantrum, that’s your problem, not mine.”

The woman blinked, momentarily stunned by her tone. Before she could respond, Jenson slid an arm around her waist, gently pulling her back. “We’re done here,” he said firmly, steering her away.

Her heart was pounding as they moved through the crowd toward a quieter corner. She muttered under her breath, “Unbelievable. What a bitch.”

Jenson chuckled softly, his hand still resting at her waist, a grounding presence in the chaos. “She was just looking for a reason to pick a fight,” he said, glancing at her with a small smirk. “Guess she got more than she bargained for.”

“See, that would not have happened if I had stayed at the hotel,” she replied, though the slight curve of her lips betrayed her attempt at seriousness.

“True,” Jenson said, his grin widening. “But then you wouldn’t have had the chance to prove you’re not just fierce on the track. You’re a multitasker now—dodging unwarranted insults and somehow still managing to look stunning while doing it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the compliment worked; the tension melted away, replaced by something lighter. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you’re still here,” he teased, his tone warm and playful.

A laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it, and she shook her head. “Maybe I should be the one questioning my life choices.”

Jenson leaned closer, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Nah, you’re doing just fine.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than she intended, the noise of the club fading into the background. Maybe coming out tonight hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: English is not my first language. I hope you liked it <333

[bullet-prooflove]

Tyler Owens "This is not the time to act innocent."

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hookslove1592 @nerdgirljen @milesdot @failure-of-a-student

Companion piece to:

The Mechanic - Tyler faces a problem when Boone brings his mechanic ex girlfriend back into the fold.

Rigs -Tyler reflects on history with you.

Hands - There’s a reason Tyler doesn’t sleep with other women.

Ford Mustang - Tyler extends an olive branch.

Engine Parts - Tyler and you try to clear the air.

In For Five - Tyler makes a realisation regarding you.

Not Yet - Tyler isn’t ready to let go just yet.

Ocean Eyes - Tyler and you agree to one night together.

Love Story (NSFW) - Tyler and you spend the night together.

Everything - Tyler tells you he wants everything with you.

Overalls shouldn’t be sexy, Tyler knows that but the sight of you slowly unzipping them as you lean back against the hood of the Ford Mustang you’ve been restoring does a little something for Tyler. You’re wearing a white tank top underneath, one that clings to you from the heat of the garage. You slip out of the sleeves tying them at the waist before you pick up the ice cold beer bottle he’s just set down on the work bench and press it against your neck.

If he wasn’t already hard he is now because the expression on your face, it’s practically euphoric, much like the one you get when he’s fucking you.

“Sophie.” He chides and your gaze comes to focus on him, those eyes so wide, so innocent. “Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

You slide the bottle lower, dragging it across your chest and his cock twitches at the sight of your nipples springing to attention.

“Sophie.” He practically growls as he raises up from the tiny card table he’s been working on his accounts from. “You’re being a bad girl.”

“Oh no.” You say, taking a sip from the beer as he approaches you with that heat in his eyes. “Maybe you should do something about that.”

His palms come to rest on the hood of the car, his body brushing against yours, caging you in.

“Oh babygirl.” He murmurs, his lips ghosting up the curve of your throat until he finds that  sweet spot, the one that makes your breath hitch when he bites down just a little. “Maybe I will.”

Love Tyler? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[nisbanisba]

Happy WIP Wednesday!!! More concussed cat dad Carlos!

Someone is scraping at the inside of his skull, like a dentist scraping at plaque. Carlos can feel it down to his toes. It won’t stop, and it’s getting louder. Carlos’s eyes feel like they’re glued shut, and he has to fight his way out of the darkness to drag them open again.

When he can see anything, he sees orange and black fur, Beezus’s tail flicking at him as she stands beside the bed. The musician responsible for the Skull-Scraping Sonata, she’s scratching the smooth surface of the bathroom wastebasket, which TK must have left at his bedside. “Beez, oh my god,” he whispers. She purrs uproariously and continues scratching. His limbs are leaden and moving is painful, but he manages to extend an arm enough to gingerly poke at her, hoping to dissuade her. She nips gently at his fingers, in that way that’s almost cute, then swats at his arm when he tries to withdraw. “Baby girl, what do you need?” Beezus is a terrorist, and Carlos has negotiated with her many times before and will do so many times again.

“That spoiled gatita doesn’t even know what she wants,” Andrea likes to tell him. “She just wants to see what else you’ll do for her if she keeps driving you crazy.” Carlos knows she’s right, but he also doesn’t want to punish Bee for communicating. She’s an older lady and if she’s hurting, Carlos wants her to be able to tell them. Now, Beezus hops onto the bed and sashays over to Carlos’s face, purring furiously while sniffing at his nose and mouth. Probably checking to see if he’s still alive or if she finally gets to eat him.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he sighs wearily. “I don’t think it’s breakfast time.” He doesn’t really know, but it definitely seems too late for breakfast, and probably too early for dinner. Beezus purrs manically before reaching out a delicate paw to the nightstand and tapping TK’s metal water bottle. “Please don’t.” Beezus gives it a few scraping scratches. “Beezus, we don’t have to do this right now.”

Beezus disagrees, shoving the bottle over the edge and onto the hardwood floor. Carlos feels the impact like a sledgehammer to his scrambled brain. Across the room, Ramon jolts upright and charges out of the room, away from danger. Beezus licks her paw demurely and nudges TK’s alarm clock.

Thanks @henrygrass @heartstringsduet @annoyingcloudearthquake for the tags! Open tag +

@rmd-writes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @bonheur-cafe @liminalmemories21 @strandnreyes

@everlastingday

@reyesstrand @sunshineacd @theghostofashton @ironheartwriter @emsprovisions

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @carlos-in-glasses @lemonlyman-dotcom

@ladytessa74 @three-drink-amy @butchreyes @decafdino @never-blooms

@sugdenlovesdingle @freneticfloetry @eclectic-sassycoweyes @herefortarlos

@alrightbuckaroo @tellmegoodbye @chicgeekgirl89 @lightningboltreader @captain-gillian

@paperstorm

@nancys-braids @pimento-playing-hopscotch @goodways @literateowl @carlos-tk tk @welcometololaland @rangersoup

[multiversehotline]

Unsatisfied with your narrative? Want to change the outcome of your inevitable demise? AU being destroyed by a glorified manbaby?

The Multiverse Hotline has you covered!

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(Legal Disclaimer: If any Multiversal Protectors of Universes (Stories) are reading this we are not changing the narrative, we do not intend on changing the narrative & everything we do is under The Creators jurisdiction. Thank you, and have a good day.)

[wigglebox]

Obviously this place isn’t Instagram but I wanted to let y’all know I’m gonna delete my Instagram probably later today.

TLDR: Deleting Instagram, I’m on Bluesky, here and RedNote. Explore the internet more!

*~*

I don’t like META but I’m forced to have a personal account for my job. But I want to get rid of every Instagram I have.

Being an artist online is a daily struggle to share your work and be seen and feeling encouraged to create more. We want others to see our stuff. The art we make for ourselves we don’t always share.

This is a truth I’ve known for a while now but didn’t wholly process until Saturday that we need to explore more. We need to explore new methods and apps and websites and delivery systems.

When the TikTok blip happened for us Americans many of us were panicking because of the greater implication of our rights. But, in the lead up to said blip, I saw many people talking about how they were coding their own spaces and other apps. Bluesky is coming out with an Instagram rival and I’ve seen several alternatives to tiktok in development.

Every social media website and app, or really anything that encourages mass gatherings of people online, has a life cycle. Some end quick and some end over an extended period of time. People my age really understand this as we have been online since the Wild West of the internet age. I’ve seen every phase of Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. I’ve seen the rise and fall of spaces like Gaiaonline, Xanga and MySpace.

The issue with Facebook is what I call the “META Virus” and it acts like a vampiric parasite, sucking the life out of corners of the internet to keep its zombie self alive. Instagram was one of these places. Facebook should not have lasted more than 7-8 years as most. It was an early social media website and far superior ones sprung up behind it. But it’s a zombie now.

So, at the end of the day, I’m just going to delete my accounts there.

I think it’s very important we explore. Pretend these are little worlds or galaxies and explore. I know we want to keep fandoms alive and there’s no reason to suggest they won’t on other platforms. You just have to find your people.

You can find me currently on Tumblr, obviously, and BlueSky and RedNote (xiaohongshu).

I’ve deleted many of my tiktok videos to go back to 2023 mostly and don’t plan on posting there. I want to make art videos but I don’t want to post those videos where people aren’t interested.

I will be exploring pixelfed and other apps and I have followed the developers of even more apps and websites. I’ll post about any one I join to here and Bluesky but when in doubt, I’ll always be wigglebox or wiggleboxart!

I’m also exploring making a Neocities page as a sort of landing site for me and see if I can set up a newsletter or Patreon. If I set a Patreon up the tiers will be low. Probably just one for like, $2 or something. Mostly because for us Americans it’s going to be a penny pinching way going forward.

I’m not sure yet about Patreon yet I’m still brainstorming that.

Suffice it to say, after all this rambling, we need to be internet explorers (not THAT internet explorer) much like we were in the early 2000s if you remember that time.

Thank you for reading and understanding!

[infinitatis-ink]

fdsgfdfg ain't much but I do have 2 WIPs that I'm actively working on one sentence at a time. One day I will learn to juggle more than 2 WIPs at a time, but today is not that day!

Also gonna tag @angelbunsx and @sencrose pspsps I know you guys are also cooking up some juicy ideas in your drafts adfsgh

This one's from my manager and big brother!Geto x idol!Reader. Geto is very mean here, and it's only going to get worse for Reader lol.

“Take a good look at yourself,” Suguru murmurs, his voice low and even. “Acting so pure and innocent when you’re just another slut. If your group members could see you now…” You let out a high pitched moan, too blinded by pleasure to think of a proper response. Your older brother’s always had a possessive streak to him, never let you stray far from him even as kids, and declaring himself your protector. But it’s intensified ever since your group exploded in popularity with the underground idol scene, and you found yourself as the fan favourite. The more popular you became, the stricter Suguru grew until he was all but managing your every move. Even your other group members are beginning to notice.  “Suguru, I’m sorry—” you whimper. “Whatever I did, I didn’t mean—” Wrong answer. Suguru stops, two fingers still pressed on either side of your clit. He’s still wearing his usual serene smile, the one that wins over the trust of everyone he meets. Only the way his lips are pursed ever so slightly betrays his restrained anger. 

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. In the empty room it echoes, loud and foreboding. Your blood runs cold.  “Don’t lie.”

And this one's from an old idea I finally started getting down on paper, about younger brother Gojo developing romantic feelings for his older sis. Well, it was supposed to be a straightforward incest fic, but then I got carried away and it somehow became a bit of a study about the women of the Gojo clan and societal misogyny with a side of incest. Oops...?

In your earliest memory, you are almost dead. Most of all, you remember the pain. A slow, steady ache that’d spread throughout your tiny body, rattling your lungs with each cough you take. Your head had pounded, the blood-stained tatami digging into your skin as the world around you grew hazy. You might’ve cried for Granny—or perhaps you’d already learned at the tender age of four that nobody will help you. You don’t remember; nor does it matter. You know that now.  Secondly, you remember Satoru’s eyes. They’d been the first and last thing you’d seen when you’d collapsed to the floor in a violent coughing fit from the poisoned tea. There’d been a scream in the background, the sound of cloth swishing, doors slamming open and shut. Satoru had raced towards you, his bright, sky-blue eyes alight with a terror that you won’t see again for years, his chubby hands reaching out for yours. He'd never made it, being swept away by a group of maids who rushed him straight to his quarters, his eyes still searching for yours in the gaps between the long sleeves of their kimonos until the door had closed behind him.  Nobody had remembered to come for you.  When you’d come too, you’d been left alone in your dark, cold room. Echoes of Granny’s and your mother’s voice had reached through the shoji doors.    “Thank goodness she’ll live. The dose was too weak,” Granny had said. “Such a strong girl, that one. She hardly cried.” Your mother’s voice had been hard and cold when she’d replied all too quickly. “Better her than Satoru. Are there enough guards around his quarters?” The first lesson you learn in life is this: Your life exists to extend that of your younger brother’s. 

silly wip tag game!◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

show us a paragraph, line or dialogue out of context from your current wip[s]. if you aren't a writer, feel free to share one from the last fic you read! ♡

these are from three different wips, the last one is something i wrote in december 2024 (those who remember me talking about nanami and a desi reader...yea), and the second one is something my aashi (@fushitoru) has been asking for since the beginning of time [hint: salaryman choso]

— npt: @gojocon @norikuna @sonnytoru @starmapz @aishi-toru @baepsays @gojosoups @indiewritesxoxo @madamechrissy + anyone else

[qwordavoider]

Parting Waves

A snippet of chapter two that I hope to post tomorrow. Plus a little sneak peek at two of my original characters! Chapter 1 is up on AO3.

“Hey, Tommy!” Evan almost yelled from halfway across the lot.

Tommy chuckled at his enthusiasm as they got started on the tour. He showed Evan all the normal station stuff before they made their way out to the helicopters. As they were touring, Tommy kept feeling like Evan was flirting with him but he couldn’t for the life of him tell if it was just his personality or if it was because he was interested in Tommy. Curious how he would interact with other people, he decided to introduce him to some of the other members of his crew. He saw Val and Rusty working on the equipment in their usual helicopter. 

He called out to them as they headed that way. “Val, Rusty, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

They both looked up from where they were working. “This is Evan Buckley, he’s here for a tour. He’s actually a firefighter at my old station.”

“Hey, I’m Valeria Lopez, Val,” she said as she extended her hand to Evan.

“Buck, nice to meet you,” Evan said as he gripped her hand. 

Huh, Tommy had been calling him Evan the entire time they had known each other. Should he not be doing that? He would have to remember to ask Evan about that later. 

“I’m Richard Dawson, but everyone calls me Rusty.”

“Is there a story behind that name?” Evan inquired.

“If there is he won’t share it with anyone. Is there a story behind Buck?” Val asked.

“There were three Evans in my graduating class, so they shortened Buckley to Buck and the name stuck,” he replied with a shrug. 

“Val and Rusty are the two helitac members on our team.” Tommy continued. 

Buck perked up at that. “Really? So you guys are the ones repelling down for medivacs or the first ones flown in to scope out wildfires?”

“That and we help direct logistics for all flights in and out of the area during the wildfire response,” Val confirmed. 

“That’s awesome. I got my combat helitac certification when I tried out for the SEALs. It was probably my favorite part of the whole experience.” 

Tommy looked at Evan and raised his eyebrows. He tried out for the SEALS?

tags (reblog or comment if you want to be added): @consulting-goddess-of-deductions @sensitivescream @inawickedlittletown @walkedthroughfires @cannibalhellhound @fenrirscarsback @nochance-noway @meltedredweasels @moonydanny @thestrangestthlng @the-little-red-queen @sagahaft @tommy-loves-evan @deansmilo @fierybuck @manifestingchaoticvibes @javanicko @chococara25 @911coded @911-is-my-emergency @harmonic-intervention @teabroomsandbooks @comeon-intothemadhouse @sweaters-and-silly @magdad @n1kkii @nephilimeq @partofthelouniverse @xoxo-jnh-xoxo @angelus-bellator

[crowsofdarkness]

Moment Of Weakness: Chapter Fifteen

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence, kidnapping, faking a pregnancy.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Note: I just wanted to remind everyone who reads this, there are heavy moments of cheating/having an affair in this story. You might not agree with the actions of "reader" or Bucky but it does pertain to the storyline. If anyone is interested, tags are open for this! Just send me a message or comment!

Tags: @cjand10 @generalmoonpolice @sapphirebarnes @baw1066

The noise of the television was white noise as I stared into the void in front of me, chewing nervously on my thumb nail while my knee rapidly bounced. Every little bump or creak made me jump, unsure if someone was about to break in and cash in on the hit against me. 

It didn’t help that I didn’t hear from Bucky, not once, the entire night. He said he would handle it but my faith in him was a bit deterred at this moment. How could he if he was busy with Natasha? 

I even thought of sending him a message but knew it would only be ignored. Especially with the picture I had seen Natasha post on her Instagram story an hour ago. 

Bucky laying shirtless in what I would assume was their bed, his back to her phone and it was clear he was fast asleep. The caption did nothing to mend the crack in my heart. 

He always knows the best way to keep me happy. 

Jealousy, anger, and stupidity washed over me because I kept getting reminders that at the end of the day, Bucky would always go back to her. Even after our afternoon together, he still laid with Natasha, in more ways than one. 

“Hey,” Steve’s soft hand covered my knee, halting its movements. “It’s alright. Nothing is going to happen while I’m here.” 

I gave him a forceful smile. “Sure.” 

He sighed while leaning against the couch, his large arm extending over the back of it. I could stop the way I slowly leaned into him, needing that feeling of protection, and looked into his eyes. 

There was this perfect man, right in front of me, and there wasn't a doubt in my mind that he would give me everything if I asked for it. 

I cupped his cheek, thumb tracing his jawline. “Thank you for being here.” 

“Of course,” he nodded, placing a soft kiss inside my palm. 

We faltered back to our previous position, sitting next to each other, as I forced my eyes to watch the television. 

Steve had spent the majority of the night trying to keep my mind off of things; making me something to eat or watching stupid movies but nothing worked. My mind kept wandering to the thought of someone sneaking up behind me and slicing my throat.

“Maybe it was a mistake for taking this job,” I muttered to myself. “For many reasons.” 

“Hey,” Steve lifted my chin with a gentle finger. “We’re going to figure this out, alright? I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

I nodded in his grasp. “You’ll stay all night?” 

He gave me his own nod. “I’m not going anywhere, doll.” 

The nickname, the same nickname that Bucky called me, felt different coming from Steve. Almost as if it was uttered with promise and love. It made my knees weak. 

With his vow, I allowed myself to sink further into the couch and his small embrace, and watched whatever movie he decided to put on. But as the night wore on, the movie becoming less interesting, I sighed and began to lean over Steve to grab the remote. 

“What are you doing?” He chuckled. 

“I can’t stand this movie, it’s terrible,” I groaned. 

With a slight slip of my position, I ended up falling on top of Steve, who’s arms wrapped around me in order to stop me from falling off of the couch. Our faces were so close that I could feel his warm breath dance across my lips and with the slight movement, I brushed my nose against his. 

Both of us were unsure of what to do or say, this new proximity foreign to us. My heart raced as Steve brushed away the hair that fell into his face and palmed my cheek, me leaning into his touch. 

His leg wrapped around mine, a way to keep me locked into place. 

“Steve?” 

My voice came out in a hushed tone. 

“Hm?” He hummed, the vibrations of it rattling against my chest. 

Flash images of Steve and I together, naked rolling around in the sheets of my bed, burned deep into my mind and I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, a small ounce of guilt pulling my heart down. 

Bucky. 

We weren’t actually together, though, so what was happening between Steve and I wasn’t wrong. It felt more right than Bucky and I did. 

So why couldn’t I stay away from Bucky?

“I think I’m going to go take a shower,” I pressed a hand on top of his chest, halting our faces leaning towards each other. 

A small moan fell from my lips when his cock twitched against my core. 

With a slight nod, Steve released me from his grip and I detached from him, muttering to myself that I needed a long, cold shower. 

The shower did absolutely nothing to calm me down from thoughts of Steve. All I could do was wonder what his lips tasted like. 

With the towel wrapped tight around me, I shut off the bathroom light and walked into the hallway, gaze falling onto Steve who sat on the couch, bottom lip caught in between his teeth. Even with the distance between us, I could see how dark his eyes were. 

Lust. 

I swallowed thickly as his name fell from my lips with a yearning to feel his own. 

Steve closed the gap between us in a few strides. “Tell me to stop and I will.” 

I didn’t utter a word, only squeezing the tension I felt between my legs.  

This might cause problems between Bucky and I but it didn’t matter anymore. I had been so blind by this affair that I allowed myself to fall for someone who couldn’t commit to me. 

The way my own name sounded on his tongue caused my body to shiver and I held the towel closer to me. There was a voice in the back of my mind to stop fighting it, lean into Steve and allow him to give me what I deserved. 

I finally listened to that voice and stood on the tips of my toes, leaning closer to him, our lips pressing together so softly. 

We both stood frozen, unsure of who should make the next move, but when Steve’s lips began to move I formed into his figure by wrapping my arms around his back. My palms spread over the wideness of it while Steve walked me back towards the wall, his hips locking me into place. 

I dug my nails down his back to around his sides and pressed ourselves closer together which caused a satisfying friction between our shared cores. 

“Steve,” I whimpered. 

His beard scratched my face in the most blissful way as my fingers now found its way through his hair. Steve bit down on my bottom lip and I went dizzy at the ecstasy I felt when his dick pressed against my pussy, barely covered by the fabric of my towel. 

While his teeth left faint marks over the skin on my neck, I rutted my hips up into him. 

“Oh, fuck,” he grunted. 

Heat spread underneath my skin with the way our hips were moving together, the towel was slowly falling but I did nothing to stop it. 

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Here’s some for hanging out the very very fun prom fic!! 🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

- Sarah

Thank you!

120 or 1k for 🪩:

---

“Okay,” Eddie replies. But he doesn’t look happy with this answer. 

Buck is frustrated by that, actually. He can’t just be tired? After the day he’s had? They have to talk about it right now? Maybe that’s hypocritical. Buck is usually the one pressing Eddie to talk. But can’t they just… Wait until morning? Fuck. 

“Okay?” Buck repeats.

“Yeah…” Eddie frowns. “I just… I just wanted to make sure we’re good.”

“Why wouldn’t we be good?” Buck asks. 

“Because today was weird and you’re currently speaking to me like I’m your adversary on a daytime court television show?”

Shit. He is sort of doing that, isn’t he? 

Buck sighs loudly. 

“Eddie, I have just had three incredibly frustrating days in a row, and I’ve been extending myself a lot lately, and I want to go to sleep, okay? That’s all I want. I’m not upset.”

Eddie offers him a sort of sympathetic frown. 

“You’ve been doing a lot,” Eddie says. “And I broke my foot at the worst possible time. I’m sorry I can’t help you more right now.”

Buck shakes his head. “It’s not even close to being your fault.”

“That doesn’t really change it, though,” Eddie says. “It sucks.”

“Yeah,” Buck says. His throat is tightening. His eyes feel a little watery. Fuck. “I just, uh… I really want things to go well.”

“I know you do,” Eddie nods. “But things are great, right? Apart from the broken foot and the busted Jeep?”

Well, he’s right. He’s right, but…

“But I…” Buck struggles. “I want to make sure Chris has the best prom experience he can. And I want to make sure we have the perfect wedding. And it really shouldn’t be this hard, but shit keeps going wrong!”

“It’s not all in your control,” Eddie says. “You know that.”

Buck wipes his eyes. “Yeah, but…”

Eddie puts his hands on Buck’s shoulders. “But nothing, Buck. Chris is going to have a great prom. We’re going to have a great wedding. It’s all okay. I promise.”

“Sorry,” Buck mumbles. “Sorry. I’m losing it a little.”

Eddie smiles, sympathetic. “That’s okay. We’ll give you a clipboard detox after and it’ll all be okay.”

Buck laughs and cries in tandem. “Do you know what the worst part is?”

“What?” Eddie asks. 

“I feel like I kind of understand where Ainslee is coming from.”

Eddie laughs brightly. “You? Really? No.” 

“Shut up,” Buck sniffs. “It’s not funny.”

“Well, it sort of is. Only if you’re just realizing now.”

“Stop,” Bug begs, unseriously. 

“Hey,” Eddie chuckles. “I get it. I can’t imagine the three of you in one vehicle.”

“You have to come with me next time,” Buck says.

“Oh, not until we’re married,” Eddie jokes. “For better or worse doesn’t start until then.” 

“You’re the worst,” Buck complains.

Eddie grins. “Can I see my surprise?”

“Absolutely not,” Buck shakes his head. “That’s for my husband. You’re just someone who won’t join me on the errands trip from hell.”

“True enough,” Eddie retorts, smirking. “Will you come to bed? I think tomorrow will be better.”

Buck takes a deep breath and nods.

“I’m not doing anything. Not a damn thing.”

“You deserve that,” Eddie agrees. 

Days to Prom: 1

Eddie has a surprisingly great sleep. Despite his foot, he’s comfortable and blissfully warm, all curled into Buck. This is much better than sleeping alone, like he thought he would that night. 

Buck needed to have that little meltdown, he thinks. He has a lot on his plate, and a lot to get off his chest. There’s a lot of stress, it turns out, in planning a happily ever after. Very different from the first wedding, where the stress was in trying to make everything seem like it wasn’t a rushed, pressured disaster. Maybe that’s why he’s so much less stressed than Buck. Regardless of what happens here, they really are marrying each other for the exact right reasons. He has nothing to worry about, even if the day falls somewhere short of perfect. Though, somehow he doubts it will.

[blackwraithtea]

I don't usually insert myself into these things but.. I gotta just this one time. The line between sex and battle is very very fine, it crosses over a lot of the time. Hence why primal sex is a good mix; it blends the two in very well; a delicate dance, a battle. They're tied together. And when it comes to Zenos in FFXIV there is some heavy use of romantic, sexualised terms used so much it sometimes makes you wonder if we're even talking about the hunt anymore (which I personally adore) Furthermore I recall Luke Alan Gale in interview going into depth about this topic, he sensed the sexual nature behind Zenos and hence it's a reason as to why that is closely reflected in his voice acting for Zenos. For a while I assumed Zenos to be Asexual through STB after all it is an activity for lesser beasts and ultimately banal, no? Chronicles of light gives us some interesting background lore of Zenos. However that changed, enter the wol. His one burning spark of light, with out a doubt from what we've seen Zenos is absolutely Wol-Sexual. Now what is the hunt? It is a moment of satisfaction, transcendence but more than that it is a gift. It is the only gift so dear, so sacred and cherished to Zenos that he bestows it to his friend, enemy, mirror and everything in between; the wol; who he is infatuated it with. He dearly loves. He of course is not aware what love is, or understands it full; how could he considering his upbringing and the brutality bestowed upon him at such a young age that we once again see in Chronicles of Light. Zenos is a wonderfully complex character with several layers of complexity; you have to look for these little things to unmask him and that exactly is half the issue. Most people assume he is a senseless battle fiend obsessed only with the hunt; there is failure to understand the deeper facets of him. He talks of the wol with such romantic fervour, with such heart filled belief and his transformation from Stormblood to Endwalker has been exciting to see. When there is reluctance to accept new found information, possibilities.. It demolishes the ability of exploring matters, sharing ideas, concepts and understanding on a deeper level. So ultimately when we reject this we end up with skewed perceptions. If you don't want to head canon that very well, but don't impose that and invalidate others. Why I adore this ship, the most canon ship to me is what Zenos Wol represents... the acceptance of the most darkest of desires, the most rotten parts; Zenos would never reject the wol for he dearly loves them to such an extent as we see in Endwalker. He is the wols friend, enemy and mirror; who else could understand them so intimately; so well. The unyielding belief, love he has for them is so contagious and wondrous; it brings me a joy I've never known.

So the take is cook the food. It's tiring to see people go that they're right and everyone else doesn't understand and is wrong. If it doesn't vibe, hit the bricks, no need to be a jerk, let people have fun. I always say this but everyone should cook their own food, cook the fanfics and art of your Zenos Wol moment; they're all valid. After all bask in the afterglow... (You can't tell the difference now can you, man I love Zenos' lines in Endwalker 10/10) Bloody hell share them all here with us, no one has any business telling you that you don't understand and you're not valid. (Unless you're Yoshi P)

wolzenos is SO fucking funny to me honestly because everyone ive seen who ships it either completely understands whats going on or Does Not

if youre picturing your wol having sex with him, like, good for you, but youve already lost. theres no way that man is interested in something so mundane as sexual intercourse. he is on 100 layers and counting of psychosexual bullshit and if you want to have anything to do with that youre Not gonna accomplish it by taking off your pants.

dont get me wrong he is INCREDIBLY horny. this i know. but its in a type of way where if granted the opportunity to have actual sex with wol, he would turn it down in favor of mortal combat.

ive seen a few people who understand this and know that wolzenos is pretty much just about posturing and bloodletting. everyone else seems like they just want to ride his dick which like, is fine, I get it, im a villainfucker too. but like. good luck fucking this one.

disclaimer 1: im still in post-stormblood so if theres any lore revealed later that contradicts this im unaware of it and also its incorrect. im right

disclaimer 2: wolzenos shippers please understand im saying this with so much understanding. i fear you and i worry for you but i Understand you

disclaimer 3: if youre gonna get mad at this post please make sure youre funny about it