#that's literally on you. i Have taken measures to try to make this alright

[gynaephora]

Is it time to flirt with the star?

I. THE TIMING ON THIS???

You know what, sure. I'll be adding the "mdni" tag to any and all flirting that's sent as an ask or reblog but SURE. Have fun???

[Obligatory reminder for anyone under 18 to block the tag "mdni." I've asked for this for over a month now, but just in case.]

[lavenderchqn]

"TO PRACTICE FREEDOM"

synopsis — You're the biggest scaredy cat living amongst the people of Scions of Canopy. You try to get over your fear of heights... by trying out bungee jumping under the watchful eye of your partner. Let's just say... it doesn't go according to plan. pairing — kinich x gn!reader warnings — near death experience (falling from heights), minor character death, spoiler warnings for kinich's story and voicelines, ajaw is a lore accurate menace notes — I've had an idea for this as soon as we learned that Kinich has interest in extreme sports... reading his story felt weird (the longer I am in genshin fandom, the more stuff I predict right...)

The People of Huitztlan believe in the concept of absolute freedom. That’s why so many youngsters throw themselves into dangerous sports with a lack of safeguard measures. Perhaps having nothing securing a person allows them to experience said freedom. 

To practice death is to practice freedom, after all. 

“We’re here,” Kinich says, looking in your direction. He has held your hand ever since you started your trek up the higher regions of the Coatepec Mountain. “Do you want to take a break?” 

“Y-Yeah… I need to… sit.” You slowly get down with the help of Kinich. Only after he signalises being opposite of you, do your eyes open.

Kinich has taken a sit too, still holding onto your hand. He’s slowly rubbing circles trying to ground you as best as possible. 

Well… here you are — the biggest scaredy cat, who decided to try and work on your fear of heights by trying out bungee jumping. It’s quite ironic really. Not only are you a resident of Scions of the Canopy, which literally is suspended off the cliffs, but also in a relationship with a guy, whose second name could be ‘extreme sports’. 

To say your mind felt pressure to get over it would be quite an understatement. 

“We can still get down. Just say the word.” Kinich says, keeping his eyesight directly on you. Even if you had asked him to help you with your fears, he’d never force you to do so. Sure, it’d be pretty cool to share interests with a partner, but it should never come at the cost of their mental health. 

You shake your head. You have to try. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think? Kinich will do everything in his power to keep you safe. 

“I can do this.” You answer, taking a deep breath. 

“Well then, chop chop SLOWPOKE!” Ajaw zooms right near your face, spooking you to bits. “Stop wasting MY precious time!” 

“Just how loud can you be…” Kinich sighs, getting up to shoo Ajaw away. “Tone it down a notch, will you?” 

The tiny saurian starts arguing with your partner, although you can easily tell it’s one-sided. No matter how much he would try, the most he could bring out of Kinich were insulting comebacks. Ajaw could try and rage the male in multiple ways… and yet, unfortunately for the dragon, your partner was too resilient to die from anger. 

In the meantime of their dissing match, you slowly get up on your legs. Ajaw is right… You don’t want to waste Kinich’s time because you’re scared and worried. He takes notice of your sudden movement, once again getting close to you. 

“Do you want to try now?” He asks, holding his hand out. These are obvious signs, that he will lead you step by step. 

“Yeah… I think I’m ready.” 

“Alright. Hold still. I’m going to put the climbing belt on you now.” 

As he says, he does. Kinich does it slowly, explaining his movement every step of the way. You’re aware, he’s doing it to ease your mind… and it’s working well. In the blink of an eye, the sound of a snap-hook getting attached brings you back from a short daydreaming session.

“All done.” He takes another look at you, checking if the equipment is snug against your body while making sure it isn’t digging into your skin. “Can you move for me?” 

“Yeah, sure!” You do a slow spin, followed by kneeling on one foot. “Although I can feel the harness… it’s not uncomfortable.” 

“That's good.”

Once again, it’s another series of your partner explaining the next steps. All you need to do is find a point to connect your line to. He already connected the rope to your belt. The other end is currently sitting tightly in his hand. 

“You’re not going to hold me when I jump?” You ask, growing worried. 

“I know you’d feel more comfortable with me doing that,” Kinich starts answering, his eyes wandering for an anchor. “I don’t want to also fall down the second you jump.” 

He even explains the physics behind it, ending his speech by saying it’s best you move further to look for a good place to jump from. 

You’re walking next to Kinich, admiring the scenery. With the rope in his hands, you’re feeling much more comfortable. Although he’s trying to talk here and there… his eyes are still locked on finding a stable anchor. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, an anchor is nowhere near. Curse you lunatics with no regard for their safety. 

“So many jumping platforms, and yet not a singular anchor?” He questions, closing his eyes. 

All of a sudden your eyes land on a ruffed pheasant that just landed on one of the platforms. You’ve never seen one so close! Without thinking about your safety, you start inching closer towards the bird.

Your steps are slow and cautious. The bird, a magnificent creature with iridescent plumage, seems utterly unaware of your presence. Its feathers shimmer in the sunlight, creating a mesmerising display of greens and oranges. An odd sense of calm wash over you, momentarily forgetting the anxiety that’s been gnawing at your insides.

"Careful," Kinich warns, his voice seeming distant as if muffled by the pounding of your heart.

The platform beneath your feet is uneven, its surface worn smooth by the countless jumps of those, who came before you. With no warning, Ajaw jumps from behind your shoulder, screaming right next to your ear. The bird, startled, flies away. You try to also get away when your foot catches on one of the loose boards. The world tilts violently, and suddenly, you're weightless.

A scream tears from your throat as you plummet downwards, the wind rushing past your ears, drowning out all other sounds. The landscape blurs into a mix of greens and browns, the ground below rushing up to meet you at an alarming speed. For a split second, your mind goes blank — pure terror seizing every thought, every instinct. You’re going to fall to your death. 

Back on the hill, Kinich’s body goes numb for a second. He’s seen this happen once before. He cannot allow it to happen again. You’re not his drunkard gambling mess of a father, and he’s not his seven-year-old self. Kinich will save you, even if it’s the last thing he ever does. 

The blood is pounding in his ears when he shifts all his weight to his legs. Only when he cannot feel any force trying to get him off the cliff, does he start pulling up. With a sharp tug, he jerks you backwards, the rope connected to the harness snapping taut. The force of the pull knocks the air out of your lungs, but it stops your descent abruptly. You swing wildly in the air, the ground still far below, the rope swaying and creaking with the strain of holding your weight.

Above, you can hear Kinich shouting your name, his voice frantic, barely audible over the sound of your racing heartbeat. You cling to the rope, your hands shaking uncontrollably as the realisation of what just happened crashes over you. You almost fell to your death.

"Hold on!" Kinich yells, his voice breaking through the fog of panic in your mind. "I’ve got you, just hold on for me!"

Tears sting your eyes as you try to steady your breathing, every muscle in your body tensed and trembling. The rope holds firm, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, Kinich begins to pull you back up. Each inch feels like an eternity, but his strength and determination never waver.

As soon as your body reaches the ledge, Kinich grabs onto you, pulling you up with a force that nearly knocks you both off balance. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you collapse against him, shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice unusually tight with emotion. "I should have been more careful. I should have—"

You shake your head, unable to speak, still trying to process the fact that you're alive, that you're safe. Kinich's arms tighten around you, his hand cradling the back of your head as if to shield you from any further harm.

"You're okay," he murmurs, repeating it like a mantra. "You're okay, and I'm here. I'm right here."

For a long moment, you stay there, clinging to him as the fear slowly ebbs away, replaced by a deep, overwhelming sense of relief. The world around you, once a blur of panic and chaos, begins to settle back into focus. The mountains, the sky, the distant sound of birds—all of it feels surreal as if you’ve been given a second chance to experience it. In your state, you don’t notice the glare Kinich is giving to his companion. 

If looks could kill, Ajaw would be dead. 

After a while of sitting idly, Kinich pulls back slightly, enough to look into your eyes. His face is pale, his expression filled with concern, but there's also a deep, unspoken resolve in his gaze. It’s quite different considering the death stare he was giving the saurian just a second ago. 

"We’re done here," he says gently but firmly. "No more extreme sports for today. We are getting you home.”

You nod, still too shaken to argue. As he helps you back onto solid ground, you realise how much you’ve relied on him, not just for safety, but for the courage to face your fears. And even though the experience was terrifying, there’s a small part of you that’s glad you tried, that you didn’t let fear win entirely. You can clearly say, you did indeed practice freedom today. 

In a moment you’re seated on his back, Kinich deciding you’ve had enough walking for today. He’s in absolute control now — and he’s picking the safest route possible. 

“Oh and Ajaw,” Kinich’s voice is laced with coldness. “Don’t think you’re getting away with the stunt you pulled today.” 

"WHAT?!"

date of posting — september 5th 2024

[grandlinedreams]

Hello, I've been reading Ur fics lately (esp with law) and I love them

I was wondering if you could make angst? Like... Let's say there's this big battle, like the one in wano, where reader and law gets separated, but after the battle Law finds reader unconscious and being treated by chopper who then explains they had severe wounds and might need blood transfusion.

It also just happens that he was gonna confess to them after all of the chaos so that they'd be safe in his arms. And that might not even happen since now they have each foot on both worlds.

I'd imagine Law going along with talking to them even if they're unconscious just to keep them here in the living. (If they're alone ofc)

I hope that's alright

OUGH some angst my beloved,,,i can absolutely do that, I hope I do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: angst, serious injuries, some brief medical talk, hurt/very little comfort, keeping in line w Law literally calling none of the Strawhats by their names, open-ended]

Truth be told, Law doesn't keep much of an eye on you during battles. It's hard enough keeping an eye on what the enemy is doing ㅡ especially if the Strawhats are involved. They ㅡ especially their captain ㅡ have a knack for blowing careful plans out of the water and he's forced to play damage control until it's over.

You're also fully capable of looking after yourself, and he trusts you and your skillset. So when he doesn't immediately find you once things have started settling down, he doesn't think much of it.

When five minutes turns to ten, then to fifteen, then half an hour, however, alarm bells start going off in his head. You've never taken this long to check in with him. Has something happened? Have you beenㅡ

No, he won't let himself think of that option. Not now, not ever. So he keeps as optimistic as reality will allow him ㅡ until he hears his name being called.

"Oi, Law!"

It's Sanji. "What is it, Blackleg?"

The blond's expression is his first warning that whatever it is, it isn't pleasant. "Chopper told me to come get you."

That's his second warning. Eyes narrowing and trying to rifle through potential scenarios from best case to worst, he follows Sanji silently until they reach where Chopper is ㅡ and Law stares at who the little reindeer is desperately trying to patch up.

It's you.

Part of him whispers harshly that this is par for the course, that he's worn out his luck in terms of keeping you safe ㅡ another notes that he's never seen you look more fragile.

"What happened." It's a demand as he takes in the bandages all over you, trying not to think about how most of them are already soaked with blood. Your blood.

He barely hears the explanation above the rising ringing in his ears, but he gathers enough to find it in himself to mentally curse your perchance for heroics. He's told you time and time again that your self-sacrificing attitude will get you into trouble, and now it has. (As if he isn't guilty of it too from time to time, but that's neither here nor there.)

"They need a transfusion," he says, kneels to gather you into his arms, trying not to focus on how limp you are. "I'll take it from here."

If Chopper protests, he doesn't stick around long enough to hear it. From the second he sets foot back on the Polar Tang, it's a blur.

Bandages are stripped from you and replaced, an IV of fluid in one arm, blood in the other. One of the defaults to joining the crew is letting him know blood type so he has it on hand, and he's never been more grateful to have it and less so that he needs to use it.

For the next few hours, Law hardly blinks, barely lets himself breathe ㅡ afraid that somewhere between, you'll slip from him. He can feel the cold circle of death around you, measuring, evaluating. Deciding if you go, or if you stay.

He wants you to stay. If there were ever a way to guarantee that you do, he'd do it now ㅡ but there isn't. So he sits, counts your breath (in, out. Up, down.), and waits.

And he talks.

He tells you that you're a pain, that you need to stop thinking so much of others before yourself, that a quality like that is only admirable until it means a grave instead of life. That you shouldn't be so cavalier with your time, that there are people who care about you, and what are they supposed to do if you die?

He means himself in that too. He's gotten accustomed to your presence, the way you've slotted your way into his routines and habits like you belong, and perhaps, were he a romantic, he'd say you always have. But he hardly has time for that, barely lets himself entertain it ㅡ too soft, too ideal, too good to be true. Always too much of something.

But he wants it, wants you ㅡ wonders if he'll even get the slimmest chance to tell you now. Law could tell you now, but he doesn't. He's afraid if he does, it'll tip the scales further from his favor and he'll undoubtedly lose you.

He can't do that.

It isn't fair ㅡ but when has the world ever felt fit to treat him in a way that could ever be seen as kind enough to be called fair?

[paranoid-rhythm]

「Chaldea Treasure Hunting!」Takasugi Shinsaku Edition

Takasugi: Oh! You finally came, I've been waiting. 

Now then, as my secretary, you'll be responsible for the top-secret mission for Chaldea Heavy Industries.

What, going to look for the Holy Grail is just something we'll do on the side, or rather, let's just save that for later. I heard that the Holy Grail is located somewhere in a place called "Sky Island." Well, if it's called "Sky Island," then it must be in the sky, right? More like, seriously, it should be in the sky since it's called that way.

So, this is what we need right now! I took advantage of Chaldea's resources without permission to develop this! A special combat unit, Sora Habaki! This time, I also wanted to test the performance of this highly anticipated weapon.

Now, get behind me and get in quickly. Let's go!

Hahahahaha! This is bad! The power output is too high, I can't control it! Today may be the last day for you and me.

Guda: Can't you do anything about it?! 

Takasugi: Well, if you say so, then why don't I try something. However... I could use some help....

Hey, help me steer for a while, it's this leverー... Not that! The one to the right of that! No, the one right in between my legs, between my legsー... Huh?! Hey, you! Just where are you touching?! Just where?! Ah! Alright, that's it! 

Pull it as hard as you can! Make sure you hold on tight, I'll fly it right up!

Hm? Hey, hey, what in the world is that? Don't tell me that's thunder! I didn't hear about the weather getting this rough! 

This mana response... Things are literally looking bad right now... No, more like, it's becoming more interesting! Let's charge right in just like this! That Sky Island is surely just before us! I may not have any proof, but my intuition tells me so!

Hey, wake up. It's not time for you to sleep right now. Oh, so you've woken up, huh? And your body... looks all good. Hahaha! That's great, isn't it? Looks like we've escaped death. It seems that you've got great luck, just like me. 

In any case, look, it seems that we've successfully landed in Sky Island. It's quite a nice place, isn't it, is what I want to say. But it looks like quite the violent welcoming party has come to meet us. Well, since we're here, let's give them a flashy greeting, shall we? I'll, no, let's both show them our grit!

Guda: Let's do it, Takasugi-san!

Takasugi: Let's do it super flashily! Break through them, Ultra-Advanced Reformation,  Kiheitai!

Phew, looks like we've taken care of all of them. Hm? 

Tezcatlipoca: Even though it seemed like you're holding back, that's still quite the firepower. You pass, Takasugi Shinsaku. With this, the joint agreement between Chaldea Heavy Industries and my company, Tezcatli Corporation is now finalized. 

Takasugi: I was wondering who it was, but it's you, huh? The person from the company who offered a business proposal contract with me. Aah, so it's like that, huh? You stole the Holy Grail, then created this Singularity to test me?

Tezcatlipoca: That's right. As the CEO, measuring the capability of a future business partner is the bare minimum of my job. As soon as you return to Chaldea, we'll proceed to signing the contract and establishing the business partnership. It's not a bad deal for both parties. 

Oh right. By the way, Master, if you want a business profile that's more trustworthy, come over to my side. Tezcatli Corporation is always ready to welcome you. 

Takasugi: Whoa there, I'll have to decline that. I won't just stand by and watch while you poach my most precious employee right in front of me.  

Tezcatlipoca: Heh, that's not how I'm seeing it though. After all, it's impossible to tell from the outside what's inside a person's heart. In any case, since you've retrieved the Holy Grail, hurry and return before the technical advisor catches you, or so says the Director. Adios!

Takasugi: Good grief, it sure felt like I was taken for quite the ride. But flying through the sky with you wasn't so bad. 

"If I had wings, I would fly for a thousand miles, and see countless countries."

Aah, why don't we fly, far, far away. You and me together, that is.

[camaro-and-smokes]

Get Out of My Dreams, Get Into My Car

Chapter 6: Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad

Tags for the chapter: Mutual pining, some fluffy fluff in the very end

Notes: Moodboard by the lovely @a-redharlequin 💜 Title from the Def Leppard song 💜

Summary: Billy finally catches Steve who's been slipping through his fingers all week and sits him down for a talk. Later, Billy unsuccesfully tries to let go of Steve, and Steve figures out what he needs to do—even though it scares the shit out of him.

Read on AO3 >>

:::::::::::

It was on Friday morning when Billy finally caught Steve—quite literally—before he left for work. Or rather, before he once again slithered himself through Billy’s fingers like quicksand.

Billy was reading an article about new materials used for surfboards when Steve appeared in the doorway.

“Uh…morning. Have you, um, have you seen my shoes?” Steve asked, rubbing his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

Billy looked up from his article and took a sip of his coffee. “Maybe.”

Steve looked at him expectantly for a moment before he spread his hands questioningly. “So? Where are they?”

“I think we have to talk,” Billy said.

Steve sighed and chewed his cheek for a moment. “About what?”

“About…” Billy started, not knowing how he exactly should continue. “Well, about…things. Like, this week.”

Steve closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

“Just humor me, okay?” Billy asked and pointed at the empty mug on the table he’d taken out just for Steve. “Sit down for one mug of coffee. Please?”

Steve glanced at the front door as if calculating the distance to it from his spot and if he could reach it before Billy would catch him. Then he looked at his watch, wincing, but finally he relented. He sat down while Billy poured the coffee into the mug and gave him the milk from the fridge. “One mug,” he muttered.

“Alright, I’m gonna make this blunt, then,” Billy said as he sat down. “Are you angry at me about something?” He paused, measuring Steve and trying to see if there was something that would give away Steve’s emotions.

Steve just sat there, still clenching his jaw and staring at his mug.

“Like, for example, me going on a date and you thinking you have to find a new place to stay?” Billy continued.

Steve shifted in his seat, but kept his eyes locked on the beige liquid in his mug. “Uh…no. I’m not angry about…anything.”

“Good,” Billy said quietly. “Because you don’t have to worry about that. I’m really not planning on moving in with anyone soon.”

Steve just nodded. After a while, he asked, “Was the date that bad?”

Billy snickered. “No. It was okay.”

Just as Billy was about to continue, Steve asked, “Planning on seeing him again?”

Billy thought about it. Yeah, the date with Jason had been nice. It was nice to have the attention, someone laugh at his stupid jokes, and Jason was a decent guy. But he wasn’t…there was something that wasn’t just right. “Well, he said he’d like to see me again, but we didn’t yet agree on anything since he’s busy. Maybe,” he shrugged. Yeah. Jason just was…not Steve.

Steve felt like crying, but he just nodded and took a sip of his mug. He’d tried to avoid Billy all week just to save himself from hearing that maybe. He was sure the guy was decent, Billy probably wouldn’t want to go on a second date with someone who wasn’t. Decency did nothing to Steve’s desire to kill the guy, though.

The few days that had passed since Billy’s date had been hard. Billy had seemed happy after the date. Singing in the shower that Def Leppard ballad that was on the radio 24/7—and also humming it while cooking.

Steve wanted to leave, get to work and forget this misery for at least the eight hours. But he’d promised to stay for one mug of coffee and he’d accidentally put too little milk on it so it was burning his mouth. So he had to suffer a little longer than he otherwise would’ve.

Billy cleared his throat. Steve was fidgeting, so maybe that was enough of that subject. Billy felt the tips of his ears burning when he tried to find words for the second thing he wanted to talk about. “Um…That wasn’t all I wanted to talk about.”

Steve took a sip of his coffee. “Okay.”

“Yeah. Uh…” Billy took a deep sigh. Better just to spit it out. “The re—red panties…”

Steve had to close his eyes. He felt his face heating, and it embarrassed him. He hoped Billy would take his reaction as just that, embarrassment, and not as anything else. Especially not as something that had launched an avalanche that was shaking his life inside out.

Billy looked at his own mug when felt his face burning so he didn’t see Steve’s reaction. “They’re, uh…they’re mine,” he stammered. “I, uh…I—I like to wear them. Sometimes. It’s a secret and…no one has known until now.” To Billy’s surprise, admitting it felt liberating instead of anything else.

Steve hid behind his mug and drank from it as much as he could, even though it burned his entire mouth, and he was sure he wouldn’t taste anything for a few days. He knew he should say something. Yeah, I figured. No problem, I really liked the idea, was what he wanted to say. “Uh…” he started, knowing he couldn’t say what he was thinking. Ever. This secret would die with him. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, it’s OK. Not my business what you do in your room.”

Billy swallowed, glad that Steve took it like that. But he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed, too. He’d been secretly hoping that maybe finding out such a delicate secret would’ve stirred something in Steve. Apparently it hadn’t, and instead, just made him embarrassed. “Yeah?”

Steve was nodding vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.”

Billy fidgeted with the ear of his mug. “Thanks,” he said. “Sorry you had to learn about it like that.”

Steve swallowed the rest of the coffee and set the mug on the table. He finally glanced up at Billy. A thought of getting up, leaning over the table and kissing Billy pierced his mind. A dream come true.

One he couldn’t have.

“Well, the mug is empty,” he said instead, getting up. He smiled a little. “So, any sign of the shoes?”

Billy looked up at Steve. “So, are we okay? I mean, really okay?”

Jesus, those eyes are blue, Steve thought. He could drown in them and would, too—happily. He found himself thinking that there was nothing he couldn’t forgive Billy. Clearing his throat, he nodded, his smile widening a little. “Yeah. We’re good.”

Billy nodded and got up. “Just a sec.” He went to his room and came back a moment later with Steve’s shoes.

“Do I have to worry about you stealing my shoes again?” Steve asked, with a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Billy smiled and offered the shoes to Steve. “You kept slipping away in the mornings, coming home just to sleep and…I just really wanted to have this chat with you, ’s all.”

Their hands brushed against each other when Steve took the shoes from Billy. It sent a hot jolt through Steve, and he set the shoes quickly on the floor and tied the laces. He needed to get out before he did something stupid.

+

When Steve left, Billy walked by the sink and looked through the window at how Steve got into his car and drove away. Steve’s warm skin on Billy’s in the tiny point of contact where their hands had touched was still burning his hand. He’d wanted so much to drop the shoes and kiss Steve. He’d needed to.

The truth was, Jason had asked him for another date. But he’d lied to Jason he couldn’t, not this week. That he was busy with a restoration project of an old Mustang and that maybe next week he’d have time.

He squeezed his eyes closed. Why did he always have to make stupid choices? Listening to his heart had only ever brought him heartache. And he’d just recovered from one heartbreak, only to get into another one that would probably drag on even longer than the first. He’d be hanging on to something he couldn’t have as long as Steve would live with him, or at least as long as he didn’t find someone he would truly be interested in.

Maybe he had no other option but to make himself interested in Jason for real.

+

Steve hunched over piles of paperwork in his office, the clack of keyboards and murmur of co-workers creating a soft background noise that reached his office through the open door. He tried to push Billy out of his mind and keep himself concentrated on his work, and the sounds seemed to help him achieve that.

“Hey, did you catch the game last night?” Dave, one of Steve’s colleagues, asked with a smirk, leaning against the door frame.

Steve glanced up. “Missed it,” he confessed. He’d been at the office all night and hadn’t even remembered the office bet pool. “But let me guess—our team tanked again?”

“Like a lead balloon,” Dave snorted, pushing off from the door frame. “We should start betting on how much they lose by!”

A round of laughter erupted from a nearby cluster of desks, and Steve joined in, the corners of his lips upturning genuinely for the first time that morning.

His gaze meandered through the door and across the sea of beige cubicles, his mind pulling him back into the conversation with Billy.

So far, two things had made themselves known. One, Billy hadn’t agreed to go on a second date with the guy—yet—and two, he had admitted to liking feminine underwear. Not that Steve needed a confirmation on that anymore. But it was nice to know for sure. So, Billy was still free and nothing was yet written in stone.

He still had a chance, but he needed to act on it. He just had to come up with something that might reveal what Billy really thought of him. If he really had a shot. No matter the consequences.

Janet, the secretary of Steve’s boss, appeared in the doorway, popping Steve’s reverie like a soap bubble. “Hey, Steve. Your list for the new purchases for the meeting this afternoon…you sure it’s right? I mean, ‘The Scent of a Wow Man’ sounds thrilling, but…”

Steve looked up at her. “What? Oh, that’s not—”

“Or what about ‘Bad man returns’?” she continued with a smirk and gave the paper to Steve.

“Damn it,” Steve muttered under his breath, reaching out for the paper as he felt heat rising to his cheeks. “I’ll fix it,” he said as he hurried to correct the list.

“Well, movies in your mind as they should be, just a little…adult-themed, maybe,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Long week,” Steve admitted, trying to shrug it off, and rewrote the list by hand—careful not to let his thoughts wander to the last thing he’d seen of Billy in the morning: his sapphire eyes.

And then it came to him. He didn’t actually like the idea and what it required from him, but it was something he knew would get Billy’s attention for sure. Apparently, he was willing to leave his comfort zone for Billy.

+

The salty breeze from the Pacific ocean played with Billy’s hair as he sat across from Jason at lunch. All the way to work in the morning, he’d pondered the choices he could make and if he should take Jason’s invitation for another date. When he’d arrived at the garage, he’d called Jason first thing, wanting to stop the useless what-ifs for good.

Now they were sitting on the terrace of The Sand Dollar Cafe, a kitschy eatery by the beach, adorned with seashell wind chimes and driftwood art.

Jason was detailing his latest real estate conquest. “…and it was such a steal,” he said. “The view alone was worth—”

“Sounds killer,” Billy interjected, his mind drifting at the rhythm of the fish fillet he pushed around his plate.

“Uh, well, yes,” Jason said. He wiped the corners of his mouth into a cloth and reached out to Billy’s hand with his. “Everything alright? You look like your mind is…surfing on some distant waves.”

Billy looked up at Jason and forced a smile he didn’t feel on his face. “Oh, no, sorry. Just thinking about…work.”

“Right,” Jason replied, a hint of skepticism in his voice. He settled the cloth next to his plate and drank from his glass. “Speaking of which, how do you stay so clean while working on cars all day?”

“Oh, I just…” Billy started before he really, really heard the words. He frowned and looked down at the front of his shirt and his hands. He’d changed his clothes and checked himself in the mirror several times before leaving work to not have any oil or grease stains on him. Or did Jason actually make a derogatory comment about his job? For a moment, Billy had to hold back really hard not to say the first thing that came to his mind. He tilted his head as he looked up at Jason. “Ever heard of overalls?” he said tersely.

Jason raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “No need to get offended. I just wanted to know how the technicalities work. I have no firsthand experience, that’s all.”

“Right,” Billy said, biting his tongue. He didn’t yet know Jason that well, so maybe he shouldn’t get all worked up over something small like this. Maybe Jason was honestly interested in his work and sometimes just said things as he thought of them, without a filter. He did that sometimes, too.

+

Steve had left work the moment the afternoon meeting with his boss ended.

He knew a shop selling all the gear he’d need close to the bungalow, and that’s where he headed.

“Hey, Steve, my man!” Argyle, the shop owner—and one of Billy’s best surfer friends—greeted him from behind the counter. “Billy sent you to get that new wax he ordered?”

“Uh, no. Not exactly,” Steve said, looking at the rows of surf boards next to each other, lining the walls of the shop. “I’m here…uh, for…myself.”

Argyle’s face lit up, and he stood up and walked to Steve. “Alright! So, what do you need?”

Steve looked at him sheepishly.

Argyle squinted, measured Steve from head to toe, and then placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You’ve never surfed in your life, have you?”

Steve shook his head slowly.

Argyle smiled a wide smile and patted Steve’s back. “Hey, no problem-o, man! Everyone gotta start somewhere.” The tall surfer turned around, looked around his shop for a moment, and started gathering the gear Steve would need. He talked while he sauntered around the shop, collecting everything. “So, Billy’s teaching you?”

“Um, well…I’m hop—I’m hoping he would.”

Argyle turned to look at Steve, who followed him like a lost puppy, and nodded, a wide smile apparently permanently plastered on his face. “He will. I was wondering when you’d get bitten by the surf bug. Billy can be enthusiastic about it.”

Steve laughed nervously. “To be honest, I’m terrified about the whole thing,” he confessed.

“Mmm, real. Trust me, you won’t look back after you do one clean wave,” Argyle said, sliding his hand in the air, imitating surfing on a wave. “After that, it’s just chasing the next one.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m sure about that,” Steve said, feeling his hands sweating just at the thought of riding a wave on a slick board.

Now that he was clearly doing this and not just thinking about it, it no longer sounded such a good idea. But it was the best one he could come up with. For a moment, he had thought of joining Billy’s aerobics class, but the guy who Billy went on a date with was there, so it wasn’t really an option.

And besides, surfing was Billy’s one true love. Sure, he loved fast cars and his beloved Camaro, but what he actually could do, and frequently did, was to spend all day on the waves and go back first thing in the next morning, day in and day out.

So, if he really wanted to get Billy’s attention, this would be the way.

+

Billy slammed the door of the Camaro closed after him and stomped to the front door of the bungalow. He’d gone to the late and long lunch hoping maybe Jason would’ve showed a side of himself that could’ve been worth pursuing.

Unfortunately, the opposite had appeared to be true. The guy hadn’t stopped talking about his work, his accomplishments, and how much money he’d made a year who knows how many years a row. Sure, money was nice, but it wasn’t what Billy was looking for.

He was annoyed at taking off half a day for only learning that he should’ve listened to the gut feeling he had already on the first date and never see Jason again.

Billy opened the front door and the moment he saw what was in the living room, Jason vanished from his mind.

Steve was standing in the middle of the living room wearing a full-body wet suit and leaning awkwardly to a blue and white surfboard.

“Yo, broski, wanna hit the waves?” Steve asked him, the slang not quite fitting into his mouth and making it sound stiff.

Billy couldn’t help but to laugh. “Well, my dude,” he replied, taking in the view and nodding approvingly. “I think you first have to learn how to.”

Steve smiled at Billy’s reaction; the blue eyes were sparkling and the smile on his face was wide and toothy and the laugh genuine. It was exactly what Steve had hoped for. “Well, I was thinking, if you have the time, I could take a lesson or two from the best.”

Billy couldn’t get his eyes off Steve. The guy had been adamant about not getting on the waves. Ever. But here he was, standing, in full gear, ready to go. A warm fuzziness filled Billy’s chest. Maybe there was a chance with Steve after all.

[imagineanime2022]

Heroes With An S/O W/ Powers Like Hawkwoman

Keigo Takami X Fem!Reader, Toshinori Yagi X Fem!Reader, Shota Aizawa X Fem!Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: Hello everything is fine? I saw that requests are open! I would like to know if you can write headcanons for bnha (hawks, all might and aizawa) with a s/o who is a professional heroine and is like hawkwoman from dc? (she has super strength, speed because of her wings, resistance, etc.)

Keigo Takami

🪶 Alright let’s be honest there is going to be a lot of bird behaviour from this individual, lucky you're both derived from hawks so you understand each others behaviours pretty well. 🪶 Keigo is forever puffing up his feathers when you first met, making himself look bigger and more suitable, it did catch your attention by nature. 🪶 Miriko made fun of him every time. 🪶 Hawks by nature mate for life, so when he decided that he was in, he was 100% in, there was nothing that could change his mind. 🪶 He’d spend a lot of time measuring wings and wrapping his wings around you, you’d do the same to him and sometimes you’d make a cocoon just for the two of you by having your wings meet in the middle. 🪶 He sings all the time, another bird thing but if you ever sing along with him, it will make him the happiest person in the world. 🪶 You guys go for flights all the time, he’d dive low to grab you anything that caught his or your eye. 🪶 You guys were two of the fastest heroes, you learned to work together covering whatever the other couldn’t and that became even more needed after his fight with Dabi. 🪶 You massaged his shoulders when he was healing, you helped him to get back up but he never stopped missing his wings. 🪶 You refused to fly without him and you were the one that helped him to relearn how to fly when he got his prosthetics. 🪶 You both have heightened senses so he’d often give you his shirts or blankets so that you would always feel him near (even if he was rarely more than 2 steps away). 🪶 You were a hero couple that was feared by villains and loved by civilians but neither of you cared about that. The only thing that was important is how much you loved each other.

Yagi Toshinori

🦸 The moment that Toshinori saw you he was enamoured, honestly he’d have seen your wings and the speed and strength that you displayed. 🦸 Challenged you to races all the time, he wanted to be the fastest but he had to admit that you had him in that department. 🦸 Toshi was playful and he had yet to be able to sneak up on you either so he tried that too, but given your enhanced senses, you could hear and smell him coming when you couldn’t see the flashy costume. 🦸 When you guys actually started dating it was a secret to no one, it was lucky that you were as good at defending yourself as you were because there were just as many villains as fans trying to get your attention. 🦸 Toshi came very close to ending the relationship when a villain came after you to get to him, you had to tell him that you weren’t having it and literally slapped him round the back of his head to get him to listen. 🦸 Toshi would literally carry you anywhere the extra weight from your wings didn’t bother him at all but he did love being wrapped in them when you both had the time. 🦸 Gran Torino would sometimes enlist you to get Toshinori to do something because you both knew that it was better for him. 🦸 You were the only one that could get him to sit still after he was injured by One For All. 🦸 Toshi spent all of this time bringing you presents, anything that you could ever want, even things you didn’t know you wanted like kids (Midorya and Bakugo). 🦸 Now with his smaller stature he loved your wings even more, he hid in them when he didn’t want to be seen, made sure that they were groomed and taken care of. 🦸 Toshi made sure that you always laid on top of him, even after he was injured (much to your protest) because he would not have you lay on your wings no matter how many times you tell him that you can support your own weight. 🦸 Definition of a celebrity couple, you guys were what everyone strived to be, happy together, playful, easy and completely dedicated to each other.

Shota Aizawa

🐛 Shota was probably the last person that anyone expected you to take an interest in but after one mission he couldn’t seem to get rid of you and to be honest he didn’t mind having you around. 🐛 You were the one that did most of the work, just trying to get him to look at you for more than a second but once he really looked he was a goner. 🐛 You used your wings to shield him from the sunlight while he was sleeping during the day or the cold in the winter. 🐛 Shota is a mindful human and often found himself dancing around you in the first few months of your relationship, making sure not to touch your wings and apologising when he did, it took a long while to convince him that it was okay. 🐛 The first time that you asked him to help with grooming your wings, you thought he was going to faint. 🐛 He teaches you how to use a capture weapons and you taught him how to use your weapons. He took to yours faster than you took to his. He's unbelievably adaptable but he admired the strength and agility that came with your power. 🐛 You were well into your relationship by the time that 1-A came along, so a lot of them knew of you but they didn’t know that you were dating/married to their teacher until the first villain attack when you made yourself known. 🐛 Neither of you had ever talked about having children but you ended up with 20 the day that you saved them. 🐛 You moved into the dorms with Aizawa and basically mothered the entire class, scolded them, praised them and protected them no matter what. Aizawa loved watching you with them. 🐛 When he brought Eri back, you both became her sworn protectors and he didn’t even have to ask when he put you both down as her legal guardians. 🐛 While Shota was teaching you were out doing hero work so when it came time to fight you were always called on and he always worried about you while you were gone. 🐛 You were a large mismatched family but it centred around the two of you, anyone could see that you loved each other and protect your little flock.

Request Here!!

[nephilimeq]

Hey, I was just wondering what age you thought Derek was in season one? Cause it’s a heavily debated and unknown piece of information. Me personally I always thought he was 19 in the pilot, and this was before I had read anything about the writers wanting him to be that age in the pilot. It was just the way he acted, to me, it doesn’t seem like a mid-20s man. Also stiles says the fire happened “ like ten years ago” but then a few episodes later Peter says he’s been in a coma for 6 years. So I was just curious what you thought. Also stiles saying that is always made out to be taken as it literally happened exactly ten years ago, and people always bring it up but they never talk about how long Peter said it had been.

Sorry if this is long I just enjoy your blog and your thoughts. I wanted to share mine while also hearing it from your perspective. Hope you have a wonderful day, you deserve it!

This is a very tricky subject to handle, because the writers made mistakes in their own timeline so they switched things around.

But in the very first episode Stiles says that Derek is only a few years older than them. I always figured that Derek was around 19 in Season 1, while Stiles was 16.

The reason why they messed everything up so horribly is because they hadn't actually created a timeline for all the events when they started writing, and to me, it made the show feel like a fan fiction writer who was just making it up as they went and then all the reviewers were saying, "Hey, you have a few continuity errors," and instead of trying to make it work, they just made something up and didn't really try to go back and adjust anything.

There's a scene that happens when Stiles is asking Peter and Cora about Derek's past (Season 3, Episode 8 "Visionary"), and he is trying to find out how old they are, and this train wreck section of dialogue occurs:

Stiles: Okay, if Derek was a sophomore back then, how old was he? How old were you? ...How old are you now? Peter: Not as young as we could have been, but not as old as you might think. Stiles: Okay, that was frustratingly vague. How old are you? Cora: I'm seventeen. Stiles: See, that's an answer. That's how we answer people. Cora: Well, seventeen how you'd measure in years. Stiles: Alright, I'm just gonna drop it.

This dialogue made me so pissy when I heard it the first time because I knew that this was the writers' response to the viewers and fans. The fans are Stiles in this conversation, and the writers are Peter and Cora being purposely "frustratingly vague" in the hopes that we'll just "drop it", which a lot of us did because they wouldn't give us any straight answers.

They messed up and they know it.

In my head canon -- because it makes the most sense to me -- Derek is three years older than them. Canonically, Derek is actually only ten days older than me, as seen in this enhanced screencap right here (from Season 1, Episode 11, where Kate has him kidnapped and held up in chains):

So according to this he would have been around 22, about to turn 23 in the first season...but here's something to take into consideration. This driver's license isn't for California -- it's for New York. I have a theory that he got a professional fake I.D. so that he could do more jobs (such as bartending) while he was out of state.

Now, when Stiles mentions the fire was "like, ten years ago," I genuinely think that he was just generalizing. Derek was sixteen when Kate took advantage of him raped him, which means that the fire happened when Stiles was around twelve/thirteen (as he has a canonically April 8th birthday, so it all depends on the months).

Regarding anything Peter might have said...please remember that it has been firmly established in the show that Peter is an unreliable narrator. Stiles openly admits that to Cora in the previously mentioned Season 3, Episode 8, "Visionary".

A lot of these issues are because of the lack of consistency from the writers.

I think the biggest problem was when they cast a younger Peter and totally threw the timelines off, trying to make him only a few years older than Derek -- which he wasn't. Peter is Derek's uncle, for crying out loud! The man would have been in his late twenties, early thirties when Derek was a teen, barely looking any different than he does in the show...and yet the writers and producers thought that making him look almost like a teenager was the right call.

I do think it was a last ditch attempt to try and make Derek waaay older than Stiles because they didn't like the shipping -- but they had already established too much of their timeline at that point and simply messed up and didn't have the guts to admit it.

Simply put, I genuinely think Derek was nineteen and turned twenty during season one.

Hope that answers your questions, anon!

[mykingdomforasong]

Locked in a room + I didn’t mean to turn you on… skymandolo or any combination therein

[trope mash up list]

E rated, skymandolo, inappropriate use of old Ben's hermitage

~

Tatooine sandstorms were deadly once they picked up. There wasn't any flying possible when they raged through the Dune Sea, so Luke was just glad that they'd been sheltered in the still-abandoned hovel that used to belong to Ben.

Han and Din had been kind enough to join him on his journey through Tatooine, looking for whatever records might still be hidden out here, stowed away from the prying grasp of the Jawas. The sandstorm had picked up before any of them could do anything about it. Now they were stuck in the little one-room house together with only their rations, a few blankets, and Ben's miraculously still functioning refresher. Din had taken off his helmet and armor once they confirmed there was no going anywhere. Now there was nothing to do but watch Din scape sand out of his beskar and hope Han could make a decent meal out of their rations.

There were worse situations, of course. But his two partners were a little less than boyfriends themselves, although they were far more than strangers. Right now, they seemed to be stuck in some perpetual dick-measuring contest, constantly vying for Luke's attention, then stealing glances at the other to see their reaction. Luke found it hard to complain about, though, since most of their attention and affection went to him now. He'd been sucked and fucked so many times in the last few weeks he'd lost count. And while he wanted the two of them to work through whatever their petty bullshit was, he didn't want to stop the quantity of attention. So he was letting his boys work things out on their own.

There was still some cook wear stashed on top shelves in Ben's place that they might be able to sonic clean to heat up some dinner.

Han stretched, trying to reach a pan on the top shelf of the cabinet, but his arms were too short to grasp the pan handle. Luke wondered if Ben used to have a ladder that had been stolen in the last decade or if he just used the Force.

Luke stood behind Han, before crouching to wrap his arms around Han's thighs to lift him up. Han grabbed the pan as he protested: "Hey! Hey! Alright, put me down."

"Couldn't you just use the Force?" Han asked with his feet back on the ground.

Luke smiled. "That was more fun."

Han turned to Din. "He didn't used to be able to do that," Han told him.

"He can now," Din said back.

Han was always desperate for Din's positive attention, Luke had learned, trying to show off to and one-up the Mandalorian all at once.

Either way, Han turned around leaving the dusty pan on the counter, hoisted Luke over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Luke kicked his feet. "Hey!"

Han set him down on the long wooden table, pressing Luke flat on his back. Han looking over him, smirking the way he was, gave Luke a strong sense of deja vu. He remembered being nineteen, literally swept off his feet by Han Solo -- the same ways he'd just been -- a laid gently on the Falcon's dejarik table before being fucked within an inch of his life. He'd had sex before, but never like that. It was experienced and tender, but desperate and passionate. Sex with Han had been a revelation for Luke, and it still was.

When the memory of their first night came screaming back to him, Luke felt his cheeks go red. Han noticed and leaned down to kiss him, grabbing one leg by the underside of the thigh. Han was a tease, though, a didn't grind up against him or touch him over the clothes. Instead he just pulled away.

Luke sat up a little, leaving his forearms resting on the table. He was always quick to rise, and now was no exception. He'd hoped his semi would at least be discrete, but his affinity for tight pants betrayed him. Han and Din were staring at him, waiting to see what he might do.

"Sorry, didn't mean to turn you on," Han said, smiling.

Luke turned towards Din, who was still across the room, staring at the two of them. Han grabbed Luke gently by the chin and turned his head back towards him. Luke almost laughed at the show of jealousy, but he was cut off by Han's lips on his. Han pulled Luke into him, Luke's ass on the edge of the table, his legs finding their way around Han's waist, his half-hard cock finding the front Han's pants.

Luke opened his eyes mid-kiss and cast a glance over to Din, who answered it by standing and making his way over to the table. Luke leaned back into this kiss, a possessive grip on Han's shirt.

"Are you going to fuck him?" Din asked, now standing behind Han, who jumped at the sudden voice behind him. Han bit Luke's lip in surprise, but it only turned Luke on more. Luke started to unbutton his own pants, desperate to cum.

"Don't feel like going through all that trouble," Han said. Luke looked up and saw they were both watching him pull his cock out. "Besides, I don't think he'll wait for me to get that far."

Luke would have rolled his eyes if Han wasn't right. Han undid his own pants as Luke licked his left hand. Han pressed his own hard cock against Luke's and let Luke hold both of them in his hand, rubbing together. It was still too dry -- everything on Tatooine was -- so Han dropped his head down and captured Luke's cock in his mouth. While Han sucked him off, Din leaned down to kiss him. Din was still a little clumsy with kissing, but Luke founding charming.

Han sucked him off for just long enough that when he put their cocks back together it was a lot slicker. When he came back up, he pressed himself against Luke, squeezing Din out of the way.

"How are you going to fit into this?" Han asked.

"Han!" Luke scolded. Han mumbled a "sorry," but Din didn't seem bothered.

Din stepped around to the side, so he could watch them rub against each other. Din slowly undid his belt, then his zipper. Luke felt Han's lips on the side of his neck as his eyes stayed glued to Din.

"Pretty happy right here," he said.

Din stroked his own dick a few times before finally pulling his glove off. He extended the bare hand to Luke, who spit in it for him. Luke let his eyes linger on the slow way Din got himself off, fingers tracing over the head of his cock before sliding his hand down to the base, working himself over at a pace that would have been torture to Luke.

"Do you remember the first time we fucked?" Han asked Luke.

"Of course," Luke said, his breathing shallow.

"Din, he was incredible. Nineteen years old, already a war hero. I had him laid out out on my game table. He was hard, red-cheeks, pouty lips," Han smiled, "a lot like right now," Luke let himself get lost in the memory as Han talked. "I think he meant to whisper it all seductive, but he nearly shouted 'I want you inside me!'" Han kissed him hard, now and then, his lips pressed against Luke's like a promise. "He had an ass worth going to war for. Couldn't say no. Best choice I ever made." Han went on in detail -- how hot and tight Luke was, the things he said. The way he finished a little soon, but was up again by the time they made it to the bedroom for round two. Han was the dirty talker of the two of them, and he knew everything he said was for Luke more than it was for his and Din's little competition.

"He ever beg you to fuck him like that?" Han asked.

Din shook his head no. "I've been known to beg him more than once," Din confessed.

"You always take it, then?" Han asked. "I know that's how we've done it, but ..."

"I just like it more. And he's strong. Mandalorians ... we like people like that. I like people like that. Before you arrived on Nevarro yesterday, he bent me over the table, a lot like this one. I still have bruises on my hips."

"Fuck," Han said, picking up the pace of his thrusts against Luke. Things were starting to get dry, but Luke was so close he could hardly care. He couldn't even keep himself upright.

He laid back down on the table, and said, "Please, keep talking."

"Fucking him is a real gift," Han said. "I know he's a great top. Trust me, I know. But one day you'll have to switch. I'll watch, tell you what to do, how to make him scream."

Luke pictured it, him on his hands and knees in the big Nevarro bed, Din's fat cock in his ass for the first time, Han talking him through exactly how to make Luke feel good.

His pleasure reached its peak without much warning; he felt his balls tighten and he took a sharp inhale, before cumming mostly into his hand.

"Fuck, baby," he heard Han gasp. Luke opened his eyes to see Han jerking himself off next to Din now.

Din's orgasm seemed to sneak up on him too; in a moment he was cumming right onto the dusty floor in the same silent way he usually did. That seemed good enough for Han, who followed suit.

"You two are terrible house guests," Luke mumbled. Really, he regretted not taking off his top and letting one or both of them cum onto him.

"I'm sure old Ben will forgive us," Han said. He leaned over and kissed Luke. "What do you think of my idea?"

Luke pushed himself into a sitting position, holding his hand carefully to avoid smearing cum everywhere. "Best idea you've ever had."

[distort-opia]

Do you think Joker tops or bottoms in Rocksteady's Arkham series (it's a stupid question so feel free to ignore this lol)

It's alright, think I brought this on myself with that tag essay from long ago, didn't I :)) And no worries, I don't mind.

It's been a while since I played the games, but literally the first thing I heard when I read this was Hamill's Joker going "Me, stuck deep inside you" In the most sexually suggestive way possible. (It's very telling I found multiple YouTube clips dedicated to this bit alone, tbh.)

One should also keep in mind that this all takes place in Bruce's head. While definitely influenced by Joker's blood, it is Bruce's own understanding of Joker at play thorought the game. So uh... make of that what you will.

...Okay, but jokes aside, I think the dynamic between Joker and Bruce in the Arkham games is quite similar to the classic comic one. Aka, Joker is more of a power bottom. The above example, from Arkham Knight, is rather an indication of Bruce's psychosexual fear of being... 'breached'. Infiltrated. Metaphorically having Joker inside him, because he's infected with Joker's blood and being slowly taken over. In the end, it's both connected to Bruce's fear of intimacy and of Joker's all-encompassing influence. Because, in the end, it's Joker setting the "rules" of the game; Batman is forced to be reactionary and can only try to deal with whatever Joker throws at him.

So, much like in the comics, the likelihood of Bruce willingly bottoming with Joker is slim. Not to say there isn't a part of Bruce as a character that would like to relinquish control, and this might come across in other Bruce ships; but with Joker, the person he feels he has the least control over... well. To me at least, it logically leads to Bruce wanting to get some measure of control, some victory over Joker-- if he can't kill him, and he can't stop him, and he can't contain him. After all, there are so many covers of them while fighting, with Batman on top of Joker in a sexually suggestive position, for a reason. And in the Arkham games, Joker certainly doesn't seem adverse to the idea... if the whole "Come on, baby. Beat me 'till your knuckles bleed" thing from Arkham Origins was any indication :))

[pensiveabstraction]

15 questions 15 mutuals

ty @dont-leafmealone and @elfinfair for the tags

were you named after anyone? for my deadname one of my middle names was the same middle name as my mum, my new first name and first middle name are indirectly and directly taken from the names of characters i like

when was the last time you cried? i think it was, i finally watched into the spiderverse for the first time like two months ago seeing all the hype abt the sequel, and when the big sad emotional climax moment happened, the one during the big fight, i was crying, not silent leaking eyes maybe sniffling a bit, like full on open mouthed sobbing. shit just hit me rly hard, that movie's so good

do you have kids? nah

do you use sarcasm a lot? i think so yeah. unfortunately i am also extremely monotone so i frequently have to be like 'no i was kidding' bc out lout my normal voice and sarcasm voice must sound a lot closer together than in my head

what's the first thing you notice about people? idk i guess i notice if their clothes style and whether face looks like someone i know/know of

what's your eye color? greenish-grey last time i checked

scary movies or happy endings? both. depends what mood im in tbh. if im watching a movie i dont usually have a huuuge preference of genre, i tend to prefer stories w somewhat developed characters who have arcs so u'd think that'd make me averse to scary films where the characters r sometimes neglected/used as a blank slate to experience The Horror through the eyes of but i ALSO rly like well built up tension and just,,, interesting creepy vibes. i usually try to stay open minded w watchin stuff. however there are times when i feel down and just wanna watch some dudes fuck around and have everything come up alright in the end

any special talents? hmm. man idk. im pretty good at making minecraft skins does that count lol.

where were you born? england and i shall say no more

what are your hobbies? writing, reading fics (do not look how many bookmarks i have on ao3 why would you need to), drawing's fun. used to watch twitch a bunch but the main streamer id watch aint comin back so w for my sleep schedule ig

have any pets? yes a dog he is an old man he looks sort of like a skeletal dark souls creature (not through maltreatment he eats like a king his breed r just skinny asses lol)

what sports do you play/have you played? netball, softball, cricket, bit of tag rugby, loads of rounders, street hockey was my fav out fo em i was pretty ok at defending (all of these r from when i was still in p.e. classes in high school idk if that counts but its what i got)

how tall are you? last i checked 165cm (like 5,5 in the other measures i think)

favorite subject in school? hmm. probably either art or english. though i only rly got an appreciation for english when i did this additional gifted kid project thingy and rather than just literally tell us an interpretation of a text to memorise for an exam the teachers gave us a bunch of analytical lenses to choose from to analyse a text and i was like "yo wait interpreting meanings from the text is kinda fun when you havent got bitches in your ear telling you 'ok so this is exactly what the author meant and you just need to memorise that and write it in the test'"

dream job? i honestly have no idea. i wouldve said author once but i enjoy doing it for fun, i dont think id be able to make smth publishable and if i somehow did i feel like itd ruin it. if i had some kind of like repetetive but simple task and i just had to do it over and over, maybe listen to music or a podcast or smth in one ear i feel like so long as i earnt a decent amount id be cool with it. i am a simple little guy my dreams amount to 'eh id like to do some cool stuff :]'

i dont think i have 15 mutuals so ill just tag a bunch @jctko @thinkingjasico @captainchibi @zodismegalame @aroacekitty @glummar @ablueeyedarcher @erisenyo

[wil-is-done]

When You’re A Mystery Kid - Chapter 9: Critical Roll

Summary: With almost everyone in her adventuring party down for the count, Coralynn the Barbarian resorts to drastic measures to finish the quest.

Word Count: 1.574

-

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters featured here.

Coralynn peered up from behind the rock that she’s currently using for cover, looking at the massive, ancient red dragon that her party had been battling. It is currently hovering above the pool of lava that it emerged from, roaring furiously. They’ve been battling for quite some time, and it shows; the fearsome dragon looks badly beaten, but she couldn’t tell just how close the dragon is to being dead.

Coralynn turned to her companion, Raziel, who is taking cover beside her. “We’re getting close. What’re our options?” she asked.

“To be perfectly frank, not much.” Raziel replied, his gaze anxiously fixed on the dragon. “Our druid and gunsmith are unconscious, our warlock and sorcerer are out of spells, our cleric has been literally paralyzed in fear all this time, and I’m pretty sure we’re out of potions.”

Coralynn frowned. “I asked for options, not bad news.”

“Well, if you want options, why don’t you think one up?! I’m a bit busy right now!” Raziel barked back. At that moment, the dragon let loose a fire breath directed at the pair, only for the jet of fire to be blocked by a barrier. However, Raziel looks visibly strained, and the barrier seems to be weakening. 

Coralynn looked around, the situation being exactly as Raziel described it. Lilian and Nephros, the party’s sorcerer and warlock respectively, are ducking behind the cover of a boulder halfway across the battlefield. With them are the unconscious forms of Maybell and Wranbek, the party’s druid and gunsmith. Lastly, Niall, the party’s cleric, is cowering behind a rock all the way back across the battlefield.

Like Raziel said, not a lot of options.

Coralynn growled. “Ah, screw it!”

Without warning, she bolted out from her cover and charged straight at the red dragon. Her companions could only watch, speechless, as the barbarian sprinted at full speed with both swords drawn. With a fearsome battle cry, she leapt at the dragon and-

-

“Wait, you’re trying to do what?!” Dipper asked, surprised.

“I jump from the cliff at the dragon and try to attack it with both of my swords.” Coraline repeated. “The cliff’s edge is within my movement speed. I can do it, right?”

The others gathered around the table simply watched wide-eyed as Coraline’s insane plan unfolds in front of them.

Dipper is still slightly taken aback. “Well, I mean, you can certainly try.”

“Then I try it.”

“In that case, roll an athletics check to see if you succeed the jump.” Dipper said, regaining his composure.

“Coraline, what the hell are you doing?!” Lili exclaimed, her fingers pulling at her hair.

“Killing this thing!” Coraline shot back, rolling the 20-sided die.

“Oh god, can I just… can I cast Featherfall on her?” Lili asked desperately.

“Coralynn is just outside of the spell’s range, unfortunately.” Dipper replied with a somewhat sympathetic smile. Lili leaned back with a look of frustration.

“DM, I got a twenty six on that athletics check.” Coraline said after a quick check on her character sheet. 

“Twenty six?!” Wybie parroted in disbelief.

“Yeah, I rolled a nineteen and I have a plus seven on athletics.” Coraline explained.

Dipper simply nodded. “Alright, so… ‘With a fearsome battle cry, Coralynn leapt from the cliff, over the lava pool not even a hundred feet below, at the red dragon. The dragon roared, seemingly in response to Coralynn’s battle cry. The swords Coralynn wields in both hands almost glows from the light and heat emanating from the lava below as she swings them downward.’ Go ahead and make an attack roll.”

Coraline quickly threw the twenty-sided die. The table froze as they saw the result.

“Natural twenty.” Dipper stated with an amused smile. “That’s a critical hit.”

“Jonesy, you can actually do this! You can kill it!” Wybie cheered.

“Better get some good rolls on this one, you madwoman!” Raz added enthusiastically.

With a grin, Coraline rolled the dice, but her face fell when she saw the result. “That’s… twenty points of slashing damage.”

The table let out a collective groan.

“You doubled it for the critical?” Dipper quickly asked.

“Yeah.”

Dipper silently nodded, the expression on his face carefully kept neutral. He leaned down, scribbling something down behind the screen separating his side of the table from the others. He looked up at Coraline, now with a smirk on his face, and said, “How do you want to do this?”

The table, minus Coraline, went hysterical.

Wybie grabbed Coraline by both of her shoulders and started shaking her. “You did it! You did it!”

“W-wait wha-? W-what did I do?” Coraline looked around, flabbergasted. “How do I want to do what? What does he mean?”

“It’s this thing Dipper does.” Norman explained. “When you manage to land the killing blow on a boss fight, he says that phrase.”

“How do you want to do this!” Mabel added, pumping both fists into the air.

“Right.” Dipper said, still smirking. “Since you managed to land the killing blow, you get to decide what that killing blow is like.”

“Oh. Oh. Okay.” Coraline grinned. “Alright then, so…”

-

At the last second, Coralynn switched both of her swords into a reverse grip. The dragon lunged forward for a bite, but she managed to plant both feet onto its upper jaw, dodging the bite. With that foothold, she launched herself forward again along its snout. Finally, with one last battle cry, she plunged her swords downward into both of the dragon’s eyes.

A roar of pain and anger echoed throughout the cavern. The dragon wildly flailed its head around trying to shake Coralynn off. She held on to the swords with all her might, refusing to let go. After all, she’s not finished. Not yet.

As the dragon swung its head upwards, she pulled her swords from the dragon’s eyes. She let the momentum of the swing toss her up into the air. Grinning, she switched her swords back to a normal grip and looked at her target directly below her: the dragon’s gaping maw. With both swords at the ready, she dived down and disappeared into the dragon’s maw.

Coralynn’s companions, at least the ones who watched the entirety of her brave stunt, were left stunned. The barbarian just willingly dived into a dragon’s mouth. They already knew she, the brave warrior that she is, had a penchant for doing crazy things, but this simply takes it to a whole new level. Hell, even the bravest and most courageous warriors would give simply fighting a dragon a second thought. Diving willingly inside the jaws of one? That’s what commonly known as suicide. Just what on earth is she planning?

-

“Get on with it, Coraline.” Lili interrupted, unamused.

“Alright, alright. Sheesh.” Coraline cleared her throat. “Suddenly…”

-

The dragon let out a strangled cry of pain. It looked around blindly for anything that could hurt it, only to let out another cry of pain. The dragon now started flailing and flying around frantically, letting out cries of pain all the while. It started flying around the cavern chamber, panicked, desperate to stop whatever it is that’s harming it. Coralynn’s companions watched the dragon’s increasingly erratic behavior as it dawned on them what Coralynn’s plan is.

Finally, with one last pathetic cry, the dragon’s movement stilled, and it’s lifeless body started plummeting down to the lava pool below. 

As it fell, a pair of swords burst out from its back, slicing down in an X shape. Moments after, Coralynn bursts through the wound, leaping over the lava pool and landing back on the cliff where she first leapt. Her companions emerged from their cover one by one, approaching the barbarian in awe. She’s covered in dragon blood and panting heavily, but a confident smile remained on her face. Behind her, a lava spout shot up as the dragon’s body finally fell in the lava pool.

Coralynn grinned. “Mission accomplished.”

-

The table erupted with cheers and applause as Coraline’s story came to an end. Coraline herself leaned back with a satisfied smile.

“I think that’s a good place to end our session.” Dipper stated.

“Wow, that was crazy.” Neil exhaled in relief. “That’s easily, like, top five best moments in the campaign.”

Wybie chuckled. “You said it. Too bad my guy went down so early, though. I had some pretty cool stuff I wanna try out against a dragon. Who knows when we get to fight a dragon again?”

“Don’t go give Dipper any ideas now.” Norman gave Dipper a knowing look. Dipper replied with a mischievous smile.

Dipper turned to Coraline. “So,” he started with a smug smile, “what do you think of our little make-believe game now?” 

Coraline briefly considered putting up a front, but after the amount of fun that she had, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. 

She chuckled in defeat, and asked, “When’s the next one?”

-

Hey, guess who’s back?

I’m a bit obsessed about D&D right now, so I thought I’d write a quick story about the kids enjoying this awesome game. It’s pretty fun writing this while writing scenarios for a D&D campaign I’m running.

The ‘how do you want to do this’ line is from a show called Critical Role, by the way. It’s pretty much the best D&D show ever. You guys should check it out.

[almostgenerallyalways]

Thorn in My Side

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut / NSFW (18+), fluff-ish idk Word count: 2k Cw: allusion to past drug use, language Author’s note: feels good to get something out :)

Summary: Tensions between your coworker and you come to a head on a hot night working a case in Miami.

gif

When Hotch’s voice rings out over the conference call system, you know he’s not happy. “It’s 11 PM, our window of opportunity is closing, and the locals clearly haven’t heeded our warning – Prentiss says the bars are teeming with people. We need extra eyes.”

You’re already grabbing your phone and gun. “Don’t worry about it, Reid and I are closer, we’ll go.”

Spencer reaches across the Miami PD’s rickety table to the call pod and mutes the line, shooting you an irritated look. “What are you talking about? We were supposed to stay here and liaise with the undercover officers.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, amused. “Come on, Reid. Wanna go dancing?”

Hotch’s voice again: “Agents, are you there?”

Taking his finger off the mute button, Spencer sighs. “Give us twenty minutes.”

 * * *

You’ve changed into a short black dress you had in your go-bag, and it is immensely gratifying when, moments after walking into the first club, you catch Spencer checking out your legs.

You smirk. “Spotted anything dangerous, Reid?”

He instantly looks away, clearly annoyed with himself.

* * *

From the moment you arrived a year ago, you and Spencer have butted heads. When you work on something together, it’s exhilarating – you feed off of each other, urging the other into the next insight, literally finishing each other’s sentences.

But between those moments, it’s complicated. He’s too smart for his own good, you’re too mouthy for yours. He is the only person on the team who gets under your skin like this. The truth is, you spend a lot of time either cursing him under your breath or staring at him, watching him bite his stupid pens, imagining what it would be like to feel his mouth on you.

And that, to you, is mortifying.

 * * *

The music is pounding, the place is absolutely packed with people, and it’s a million degrees. You know Spencer must hate this, and you suppress a smirk.

You shouldn’t needle your coworker, you know, but Reid deserves it. He’s an insufferable know-it-all, and the worst part is he really does know it all. Working with him should be great – you’d never admit it, but you’ve learned more in a year of being his de facto partner than in your three years at Trafficking – yet you also feel like you’ll never measure up. Spencer had not brought a change of clothes. Glancing over him again, you bite back a grin. He looks exactly like what you’d expect an FBI agent trying to seem inconspicuous at a nightclub looks like.

You grab him by the hand, directing him to an area to the side of the busy bar where you’ll have a good vantage point. Leaning against the balustrade, you try to look like you’re not carefully scanning the crowds of people, and tilt your head at Spencer. “If our geographical profile was correct, our man should be here. I sure as fuck hope we didn’t direct three quarters of our resources to this place for nothing.”

Spencer hasn’t taken his hands out of his pockets. He looks incongruous, all wrong against the backdrop of pulsating music and dancing bodies. “I can’t believe how crowded it is here. JJ’s warning on the news clearly didn’t scare anyone off.”

A group of guys is looking at the two of you, and you step into Spencer, smiling up at him like he just said something hilarious. “Will you relax? You look like you’d rather be anywhere else. We stick out.”

If anything, your hand on his waist makes him tense up further. You tug a little at the fabric of his long-sleeved button-up. “It’s sweltering in here. You couldn’t at least have put on a t-shirt?”

“Give it a rest, alright?” He looks annoyed, but is still dutifully scrutinizing the masses of dancers for anything out of the ordinary. “I don’t like having my arms exposed.”

You glance up at him, your hand dropping back to your side, remembering the faded but still faintly visible marks concealed under the fabric of his shirt. Shit. “Reid. I’m sorry. I’m being a jackass.”

“It’s fine,” he says, in that tone people use when it’s not. “Forget about it.”

“Reid.” You tentatively touch your fingertips to his forearms, crossed in front of him. He won’t look at you. “You know I’m…”

But you’re what? You never seem to get it right with this man. As soon as things veer personal, you are constantly putting your foot in your mouth. Something about him makes you want to push his buttons, and in turn he makes snide remarks at you or ignores you.

Mercifully, you’re saved from having to finish your sentence when Spencer cuts you off: “Hold on. I think I see something.”

 * * *

 The team had profiled a white male, late twenties (aren’t they always), someone good looking and charming, who could approach a girl by herself; disarm her enough to give him the opportunity to surreptitiously spike her drink.

As soon as you and Spencer get closer, he’s proven right: The guy clocks the pair of you coming at him, and tries to make a run for it.

Spencer rushes to take the girl’s glass from her and alerts the team, while you tear after the unsub. Feeling like you have to make up for your inattentiveness before, you throw your body into it, and thank God you have dutifully ran three times a week since your drills at the academy, because this guy is fast.

Finally you catch up to him, and there’s no other option than to just try to knock him down: he’s bigger than you, and likely stronger. You hope you’re not breaking anything as your body collides with the unsub’s with a dull thump – the unsub yelps – but then a second later Morgan’s there, and Prentiss, and relief washes over you.

 * * *

 Later

 “Alright everyone, that’s it for tonight.” Hotch closes the last document box and scans the room. “Good work today, everyone. Thanks to you, three families have closure and we prevented this guy from taking anyone else.” He picks up his bag, continuing: “Miami PD is taking it from here. I suggest you all get some well-deserved sleep, the jet takes off at noon sharp tomorrow.”

In the car back to your non-descript hotel, JJ falls asleep. Once you’ve helped her navigate to her room, you and Spencer get back on the elevator. He hasn’t said a word since the station.

You sigh. “Reid, I’m sorry about earlier, okay?” The elevator pings for the eight floor, and you look up at Spencer, not expecting a reply. “Alright, this is me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Suddenly, he seems to come back from wherever his mind had taken him: “Hold on.” Following you out of the sliding doors, he grabs your wrist to spin you around, and before you know it, he’s got you pressed against a sideboard sitting in the hall, bringing his other hand to your jaw.

You’d be alarmed if it wasn’t for the exhilarating, overpowering sensation of having his body pressed close over yours. Still, though. “Reid, what the fuck?”

He brushes a thumb over the slight scrape on your face. “You went after that guy like… like it was nothing. You could’ve waited for me. Or Morgan. He could’ve…”

“We got him, didn’t we?”, you interrupt. You don’t like to have your decisions in the field questioned, but something tells you this is not that. You hold very still, looking up at Spencer.

He swallows, pressing his eyes closed. “Just shut up for one second and let me think. You never shut up. I can’t think around you.”

The way his Adam’s apple bobs distracts you. It always does. Usually, you cover it up by ignoring him extra hard, but that’s proving difficult with his hand curling into your hair, and the other freeing your wrist in favor of your hip. Your body responds willingly – there’s no way he doesn’t register the heat rising to your skin, your hand grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

Out of nowhere, he lifts you, grabbing you under your thighs and placing you on the shiny surface of the sideboard almost reverently. In surprise, you curl your arms around his neck, stabilizing yourself. “Reid. Really. What the -”  

But he pulls back slightly, and involuntarily you whine at the loss of proximity. His eyes shoot up to meet yours, wild, then glance down to where your dress, slightly torn in action, has ridden up to reveal your thighs. He makes a choked noise and steps closer between them, bends down slightly to meet you. It seems suddenly vital, imperative to you that you kiss, so you grab him by the neck and he obliges, meeting your lips in a kiss that feels like the key, the answer, so clearly the thing you should’ve been doing to him from the first time you laid eyes on his infuriating face.

His hands travel up your thighs, skimming the sides of your underwear, thumbs pressing into your hips as he pushes your dress up further. You have both lost your fucking minds, you vaguely register in the back of your head, as you pull at the buttons on his shirt. A bead of sweat slowly rolls down your back. Spencer’s breathing hard between pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck, fingertips roaming under the black fabric of your dress.

Down the hall, a door slams, and you both jump. For a second, you glance up at him, panting, worried he’ll suddenly snap back into reality, leave you here feeling like you could explode.

“Holy –“ His eyes snap shut, and he swallows heavily. “Which one’s your room?”

Clearly not.

* * *

Later, with his head buried between your thighs, you take a moment to consider whether this might be a fever dream. But he keeps touching you just right, and it’s too fucking infuriating to be anything but real, because he’s Spencer Reid and of course he can’t be less than fucking perfect at anything, and you can’t stop repeating his name as you come on his fingers, grabbing fistfuls of his perfect hair.

 * * *

In the early hours of the morning, you feel remarkably at peace, languishing in the afterglow. This may be the longest either of you have gone without annoying the other, and it’s nice, for a change. Spencer’s arm is slung across your naked body, his head tucked in the crook of your neck.

The thin morning light is just seeping through the standard-issue net curtains. You’re gonna be a wreck today, and you don’t care.

Lazily, you trace circles over Spencer’s bare shoulders, and press a kiss to the top of his head. “So tell me, Reid, why now?”

He lifts his head slightly, looking at you, and you smirk. “What, was it the dress?”

He grins lazily, digging the fingers of his left hand into the tender flesh of your inner thigh. “No, it’s the fact that you drive me genuinely insane, and I still couldn’t stop thinking about doing this.” He pauses, considers for a moment. “And the dress.”

You still, because the way he’s looking at you feels dangerous somehow, more than anything leading up to this. “Spencer, this…”, you swallow, suddenly out of quick words. “This won’t change anything for us at work, right?”

He seems to understand the question. He comes up to lean over you slightly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” He smiles. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re exasperating, but I wouldn’t not work with you for the world. We’re too good together.”

Later, you’ll have to face the outside world, and the questioning looks from your coworkers as you and Spencer sit together on the jet without getting into a heated discussion, for once. Later still, you’ll have to talk about what this is exactly. But for now, in the seclusion of this hotel room in Miami, you can still curl your hand into Spencer’s hair, and roll him over to kiss him again.

.

.

If you enjoyed this I hope you’ll check out my (mini) masterlist :) 

[catcze]

Recently I've been thinking abt muzzles for some reason,, I've never thought about having muzzles on during sex but now that I've actually sat down and actually thought abt it,, it's alright

Like,,,, imagine putting a muzzle on thoma,,, he loves to have his lips on you, whether it be sucking on your skin, kissing your lips, tugging at your skin with his teeth, anything with his lips on your body he loves. With the muzzle on, he can't do that any more, so each time he goes in for a kiss the muzzle hits your skin first and each time it happens he gets more and more pent up and frustrated. Eventually, he needs a distraction from the restlessness brewing inside of him and so, not very long after, his thrusts are becoming more animalistic in hopes of relieving himself.

once you cum he can't handle it anymore and begs you to take the muzzle off of him and you try to because you can tell he was getting frustrated, you can see the tears he's trying to holding back. You're a bit clumsy while taking it off because your mind is still clouded after your orgasm. He can hear you pulling on the straps, but it isn't coming off so he gets frustrated again and pulls your hand away and tries to take it off himself, his tears are welling up more as seconds pass. He fumbles with the straps and becomes more agitated when the muzzle doesn't come off, eventually he growls and mumbles a harsh "fuck it" under his breath and tears it off of himself. Once he gets it off he dives into your lips with his to give you a heated kiss. A ton of hickeys are littered across your body to relieve some of the restlessness that was building up from before.

And he's still fucking into you with the same animalistic pace <3

I'm so 📯knee, help me,,,, I also hope this makes sense because I'm vv sleepy rn haha,, I hope you have a good day!! And night :)

-shrimp anon

NSFW!! 18+ ONLY !!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

!!⠀Feat : Thoma x GN! Reader

!!⠀## : Smut

!!⠀CWs : rough sex, Thoma w/ a muzzle <3, marking + biting, Mating press ayy, Thoma begging and whining for a bit but he’s still dominant, creampie <3, not edited bc I typed this in a haze lmao

ajsd PLS I READ THIS AND I FFUAKJING cchokedon my spit holy SHIT <3333 Muzzles are such a niche in smut, and it breaks my heart because I’m so fucking into them but practically no one talks abt them?? A whole injustice 😭

Like like like,,,,,,,, Can you imagine,,,, Thoma who’s maybe a little too nibble-happy when it comes to you, who can’t really control himself during sex because bottoming out in your warm hole just raises such a primal instinct in him that he just wants to bite and nip and fucking mark you until you cum just from the feel of his teeth running over your skin. 

Though this enthusiasm proves to be a problem when you’ve got an important meeting with someone the next day, and the clothes you’ve chosen beforehand are a little more revealing around the neck area. And you already know from previous experiences that Thoma can’t just not have his lips on your skin when he fucks you hard and deep–– his pleading and his sweet promises of making you cum so hard as long as you let him mark you always shake your will. Needless to say, it’s not a good combination. 

But tomorrow is important, so you’ve taken a couple of extra measures. 

“Fuck!” Thoma exclaims when he had instinctively made to press his teeth against your neck, only for the muzzle to block him from doing so. The grip he has on the back of your thighs tightens, his nails probably leaving indents on your skin. “I fucking hate this thing,” he huffs, his frustration making itself known when his hips slam down onto yours with a loud smack! that has you keening.

You gasp, feeling as if he had just fucked the literal breath out of you with his cock buried balls-deep. “Your fa––ah! fault!” fuck, you could feel him so deep inside you, like he was planning to rearrange you guts to lessen his frustration. With a quiet whine your eyes flutter shut, overcome by the feeling of Thoma thrusting in and out with such purpose and force. The feeling of being so full, of having Thoma’s rough hands grip your skin and push you down to take his rough thrusts had stars exploding behind your eyes.

“Take it off,” Thoma asks, his voice a ragged pant. “Please.” He pushes your legs up higher until you were practically folded in half just for him, pinned open like a butterfly in a case. Yet again, out of instinct Thoma leans down, eyes half lidded with love and lust, intending to kiss the remaining bits of your breath away–– only to still when the muzzle bumps into your chin with a quiet jangle he had begin to hate.

As if in retribution, he sinks so deep into you, the head of his cock brushes that spot that had you sobbing from pleasure. He keeps his cock stretching you, grinding his hips against yours and ripping sobbed, choked-out moans from your hoarse throat. 

You can do little more than babble his name, pleading with him to move, to make you cum, and he delivers readily, pulling his whole length out until only the tip remains, then stretching you out once more in one fell swoop. Thoma fucks you fast and he fucks you rough. You don’t doubt that his grip on you will leave bruises on your legs. Tears prick your eyes when he fills you over and over again, fucking you like it was his sole purpose–– but you don’t miss the way his eyes stray to your lips with longing, or the way his hips stutter when you part them and moan his name long and loud.

“Fuck,fuck,fuck,” you cry, vision hazy on the edge of your orgasm. One of your hands reaches up to tangle in his hair, the other settles one of his own hands. “T- Thoma, Thoma, harder, please––” 

He does as you command, his thrusts becoming roughened with frustration when he tries once more to kiss you, to no avail. When he whines low in his throat, he pushes down into you hard, ripping the breath from you and plugging you with his cock so suddenly that it brings you to your orgasm with a stifled sob of his name.

Thoma gives you a slight reprieve as you catch your breath, rutting shallowly into you while you grip the strands of his hair. “Babe,” he whines, dragging your barely-lucid gaze to him. “Take it off. Please?”

You want to shake your head, but all your bones feel like they’re made of jelly, so you settle for weakly petting him. “You–– you’re gonna mark me up again if I do,” you tell him, but both of you can tell your resolve was shaking when faced with Thoma’s pout and the obvious desire in his eyes. Not to mention the absolute mind-melting orgasm he just gave you and the way he’s still warming your insides.

“I’ll get you something to cover it,” he tries to reason, shifting his hips slightly, which has your head tilting back so you can moan. “Just please? Please, please, please I wanna kiss you so bad––”

And it’s the absolute rawness and desperation in his voice that has your resolve breaking, the way his eyes glisten and how he worries his lip. The hand you have in his hair goes to the buckle of the muzzle, and Thoma practically sighs at the motion. He stills, leaning closer to you (and unintentionally pushing deep into you again) but your limbs are still barely responsive, and working your shaky fingers against something as intricate as a buckle in your current state is a bit too much for you to handle.

”C-can’t I––” You pull your hand from his hair, and he whines. “I’m sorry i can’t––”

“Damn it,” Thoma swears, releasing your legs to bring his own hands to the buckle of the muzzle. There’s something frantic in the movement of his hands and in the way his skin seems to warm with mounting frustration. He struggles for a few more seconds, unsuccessful and unaware of how his hips had been naturally rolling against you.

Thoma pauses, a frustrated scowl on his face, and swears under his breath. For a moment, you register the smell of something burning before Thoma is hastily ripping the muzzle off his face and recklessly crashing his lips into yours, kissing you like a man starved. You swear he even sighs into the kiss.

The moment is sweet and tender until Thoma’s hands return to folding your thighs and you’re acutely reminded of how hard he still is inside you. You break the kiss with a gasp, and Thoma immediately goes to work on your neck, laving it in kisses and small nips.

“Stay still, sweetheart,” he says. His voice sounds deeper, like a purr or a growl, you’re not entirely sure. It has you trembling. “Let me fuck you good, alright?”

He easily returns to his previous pace, pushing his cock in and out of you with a feral roughness, all the while biting and moaning into the skin of your neck and collar bone. Thoma thrusts fully into you every time, sinking until the hilt to the point where you’re sure you can see him in your stomach. His pace is unrelenting, the culmination of his frustration and his pent-up need to fuck you and stuff you full. When he’s not muffling your noises with his lips, the room is full of your moans and cries of his name. 

Your previous orgasm made you sensitive enough already, but the attention of his mouth and the snap of his hips is enough to have you sobbing from the pleasure in his arms. Thoma disconnects from a new bruise on your throat with a pop, staring into your hazy eyes with no shortage of lust.

“So good for me,” he mumbles, thrusting into you one last time before the praise has you cumming on his cock with a gasp. Tears run from your eyes as your second orgasm of the night takes you hard–– it has you clenching around Thoma, has him groaning low as he finally cums. As he fills you with his cum, he swallows all of your noises with a deep kiss.

It takes a while for you two to come down from your highs, though Thoma spends most of the time nuzzled into your neck, licking at the few new marks he had peppered on your skin. But when your breathing evens out he lifts off of you, pressing a last kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” Thoma hums, weaving a hand into yours. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

To his surprise, that draws some noise from you, and when he looks, you’re peering at him with hunger. You watch him mischievously before you tilt your neck, showing the expanse of skin that wasn’t covered by him yet. He swallows heavily. 

“So soon?” You ask with a small grin. He watches you like a predator, fixated on your throat. You can feel him twitch inside you. “I thought you were gonna mark me up, Thoma.”

[freuleinanna]

a short queen

Characters: Kaitlyn Ka, reader

Short summary: Just a little something to lighten the mood, a cute request I had about the reader making fun of Kaitlyn's height :D

Word count: 1139

Tags: @liferszz, @althea-tavalas and all the Kaitlyn squad around!

You’ve been at it for weeks. What started as an ice-breaking comment to Dylan turned into a running joke that followed you through half your stay in the camp.

It was the first day, and you were all getting to meet each other, so when Dylan went over to introduce himself, you nodded a tad awkwardly, partly because he was visibly shy, too, and said: ‘Got it. I guess, I’m just gonna call you Shorty.’ A light-hearted laugh you got out of this 6-feet statue of freaking liberty worked like a charm, bonding not only you two, but everyone else as well. From that moment on, you exclusively referred to Dylan as Tiny, Shrimpy, Hobbit, or by other equally mismatching nicknames.

It wasn’t the end of it, though. All scales have their maximum and minimum values. And some of them were much less happy about being a target for the height jokes than the others.

‘Incoming! Off the starboard, Chewie!’ you’d say brushing past Kaitlyn as she’d be walking somewhere, minding her own business.

‘Wow, hila-arious, ha-ha,’ she’d reply in a snarky tone, not missing a chance to try and kick you slightly for good measure. ‘Big tall wookie, coming through!’

Needless to say, the payback was a bitch, especially so, that you and Kaitlyn had become sort of a couple. Sort of, because one evening you’d sneak away for some alone time, and then the next day she’d be chasing you down the porch screaming ‘I FREAKING DARE YOU, Y/N! FIGHT ME! COME HERE AND FIGHT ME RIGHT NOW!’ In your defense, she never seemed genuinely upset by the nicknames. It didn’t stop her from finding petty ways to pay you back in spades, though. When Kaitlyn stepped on the war-path, there were no survivors.

Her pointing out that the Star Wars’ giant was particularly dangerous and not above tearing someone’s arm off didn’t really work. And so it went: ‘Oi, Bigfoot, sit down, you’re blocking the view!’

And: ‘Yeah, I’m with Eiffel Tower on this one.’

And: ‘Yo, Avatar, what’s the time?’

And even: ‘Guys, this is gonna be our memories some day! Just us, like we are now. Me, Emma, Ryan, Jacob, Nick, Abi, Tyrion Lannister over there, and our very own Long Tall Sally.’

Just earlier today, she got caught flipping you a finger and spent the next half-hour explaining to the kids why this gesture was for grown-ups only. At some point, you’re pretty sure you heard real threats. And as it happens, a bit later she handed you the day’s program with a broad smile and a kiss on the cheek, only for you to find out that instead of the lake festival you were given an extra kitchen duty. Having an activities coordinator with certain power in the camp for a girlfriend had its dangers.

That’s why now you were returning from the kitchen with an ache making a cozy nest in your lower back, and in desperate need of some reward. A pack of Oreos from the storage room would do. Destiny, however, decided to give you a gift beyond your wildest hopes.

It was Kaitlyn, alright. Kaitlyn who, as you walked into the room, was standing on a small stool, on the tips of her toes, and reaching for the top shelf with extra towels. She glanced over her shoulder hearing the steps and froze. Literally every emotion existent in the universe ran over her face. You leaned against the doorpost with hands crossed over your chest.

She jumped down from the stool staring you down. For someone barely over 5 feet tall, she did that surprisingly well.

‘Well, well.’

‘Oh, no,’ the threatening tone didn’t bother you one bit.

‘Ain’t that priceless.’

‘Don’t you even-’

‘Too late, mental picture taken. I’ll cherish it forever,’ you shook the head at her defeat.

Your eyebrows almost flew right off your face feigning utter surprise.

‘I am of average height,’ she hissed.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘One word, and your ass will only see the light of day through the kitchen window.’

‘Uh-huh,’ you nodded again with enthusiasm, unable to wipe the smirk off your face.

‘I’ll deny everything and you don’t have proof.’

‘Oh, for sure!’

‘You’re never letting it go, are you?’

‘Oh, sweetie. No,’ the sheer frustration on her face made you laugh. Kaitlyn propped her fists on her hips, hoping yet to find a reasonable argument and failing to.

‘May I remind you, Y/N,’ she snarked finally, ‘that short people are literally full of rage. It’s the only thing that keeps us going.’

She ran her fingers through her hair and gave you a stern, defiant look. Laughter was bubbling inside you trying to find a way out, and she saw it just as clearly as you saw her. With an exasperated sigh, she rolled her eyes.

‘Did I say anything?’

‘Oh, come on!’

You walked over doing your best to act innocent and even slightly offended by such distrust. She was eyeing you up cautiously, but there was nothing to save her from what came next. You leaned on her with the sliest of grins, putting an elbow on her shoulder and regarding the top shelf, speaking sideways.

‘Alright, go ahead.’

‘I seriously do not understand what you mean, Kait.’

You didn’t have much choice but to put your hands up palms forward, stepping aside.

‘But if the lady, mayhaps, needs some help with the towels…’

‘The lady is gonna go feral if you don’t quit it!’ she shook your arm off, caving in and sliding away from underneath it. ‘And if the lady goes feral, you go a week without as much as a hello.’

There was a moment when she was scrutinizing you, prepared to jump right back to action at the mere glimpse of mockery, but it wasn’t there. She gave you the last stern look and shrugged. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded almost plaintively.

‘Fair point. Don’t be mad.’

‘Don’t make me mad,’ Kaitlyn shot right back. Still, with a disaster blown away, she, too, got a bit more relaxed.

‘Want me to grab ‘em for you?’

‘Actually, yeah. They’re, like, really high up. Some of us aren’t giants.’

You chuckled, then hugged her with one arm. With the other, you reached to the top shelf to grab a pile of towels and handed them to Kaitlyn.

She still managed to give you a push with the shoulder as you were leaving the room. A little push, careful enough not to break your half-hug.

‘You know what they say, every friend group needs a short queen,’ you gave her a peck on the hair and slowly tugged her away from the shelves.

‘Honestly, Y/N, I don’t know why I’m putting up with you.’

‘That’s ‘cause you like me, Big Ben.’

‘Unfortunately for me, I really do.’

[pies-writes-and-more]

haikyuu boys as expecting fathers

characters: TimeSkip!Tsukishima Kei, Bokuto Kōtarō, & Ushijima Wakatoshi, all with a Fem!Pregnant!Reader

warnings: pregnant reader and mentions of having a baby so pls be mindful if this makes you dysphoric or if you’re not in a good headspace for it. But otherwise, it’s all fluff so I hope it makes you guys smile!

a/n: everyone around me irl is having babies so here is the result of that LOL i love cute stories about expecting families and shit. All of these are obviously with TimeSkip! characters! And none of the following gifs are mine so credits to the original creators! Hope you guys like it :) 

haikyuu masterlist

Tsukishima loves to tease the shit out of you, and that hasn’t really changed since you started getting bigger. But now, he’ll hide your cravings in the top shelves of the pantry so you have to make him come get it. He can’t help it, it’s that angry pouty look in your eyes - he’s so in love with you, even when you look like you’re about to murder him.

But despite him hiding everything you could possibly crave, he is an absolute sweetheart. He calls his mom every now and then to update her about you and the baby, probably asks about what she liked when she was pregnant. She tells him stories about liking to read to him and his brother, or how she enjoyed a nice bath if she was particularly sore that day. She even joked that she found it really hard to put her shoes on so typically she just wore slippers or easy to slip on shoes.

Cut to the next day, you wake up to Tsukishima reading a book of dinosaur facts to your belly. He’s not so much reading it as he is disputing and/or explaining further the facts that are written in it. He doesn’t notice you wake up while he waves away the book and states, “It’s fine. When you’re here, I’ll just bring you to my museum and I’ll show you in person. I can sneak you out of daycare, just don’t tell your mom.”

You had hoped to be able to keep your independence for longer than this, but found yourself struggling to properly put on your shoes. You huffed, muttering something to your unborn kid about how you’d hold this over their heads forever, and just waddled about with the backs of your shoes folded under your heel. Tsukishima raised an eyebrow as he noticed, waiting for you to sit down in the car before holding the door open and bending down to properly put your shoes on.

“Kei, what’re you doing?” You laughed, watching him swiftly tie up your laces. “They’re fine, they’re old shoes anyways.”

“If you wear your shoes like that, you’ll fall and hurt yourself,” he shrugged. “I can’t have you hurting the little Tsukishima just because you can’t put your shoes on.”

His expression was the same plain emotionless face as usual, but you smiled anyways because here he was, kneeling in front of you and helping you with what is supposed to be a simple task.

The day went on as usual, but you definitely weren’t prepared for your husband to call you into the bathroom and display the little bath he had drawn you with your favourite candle lit.

“Did you do something?” You asked him with narrow eyes, making him scoff.

He rolled his eyes, helping you out of your clothes gently, “Am I really such a bad husband that you think I’d have to be feeling guilty to be nice to you?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding playfully, “Yup. So what did you do?” You laugh and he just flicks your forehead before helping you into the tub.

You watch as he smirks a bit, holding your chin for a second and watching your eyes, “Well I’m the reason you got knocked up so I supposed I have to take care of you don’t I?”

He doesn’t hold that sultry teasing look on his face for too long, especially when you splash him with water, drenching every part of him you could reach 😂.

Bokuto is in a PANIC the closer you get to the due date. You once just felt a bit tired after vacuuming and the boy thought you holding your front meant you were going into early labour.

“I’VE GOT THE CAR KEYS BUT I CAN’T FIND MY WALLET!!! BABE HAVE YOU SEEN NY WALLET? I CAN’T REMEMBER WHERE I PUT IT. OMG WHAT IF THEY WONT TAKE US IN. WHAT IF THERE ARE SO MANY BABIES BEING BORN WE CANT GET IN. I KNEW I SHOULD’VE TAKEN A CLASS ON BIRTHING BABIES!”

You let him run around because he honestly is so entertaining to watch while panicking. He pouts about it later, talking shit about you to your belly, “Your mom’s a big meanie. You need to be born quick so we can team up on her okay?”

“Kōtarō! Don’t you dare try to turn my baby against me!” You laughed, swatting at his head.

Man is overly prepared for any sort of situation. He already set up all the safety baby measures, like corner cushions and outlet covers, though now he’s considering locking up all the knives into a cupboard.

“Kōtarō... how am are supposed to cook like this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at the lack of your sharp cooking knives.. and the butter knives.

The grown man just poured some more, “I gotta keep both my babies safe alright? I’ll cut everything for you so you don’t cut yourself.”

Except for the fact that Bokuto is definitely more accident prone than you are and has a few bandaids on his fingers now.

As an expecting dad, Bokuto found himself getting more and more teary eyed at any situation that involved a family or a baby. Whether that was just seeing kids and families play in the park that the two of you walked past sometimes, or seeing a commercial for diapers with happy bouncy babies, you would turn to see a misty-eyed Bokuto who would then turn to you and wrap you in a tight squeeze.

He was beyond excited at this point to meet your little baby - he wanted to know what they would look like. The perfect mix between the most perfect woman in the world and him, who was pretty cool thank you very much. This baby was going to be the cutest most amazing kid ever, who would definitely play a really great game of volleyball, Bokuto was sure of it.

Let’s be honest though, pregnancy is not an easy journey. Bokuto loved seeing you grow the baby but he knew that it was a difficult process for you. You were always sore and at the beginning you were always sick. And there were some days where you literally didn’t feel attractive or beautiful at all, but Bokuto would praise you as high as he always did regardless.

“You are the most perfect lady I have ever laid eyes on. The most gorgeous being to ever walk this universe!” He told you one day, pressing kisses all over your face as you laid across a couch.

“Thanks,” you tried to give him a smile - you always appreciated his compliments, even if you didn’t necessarily agree.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you with a small frown, noting your forced smile.

“I just… feel bleh. Not at all like how you’re saying I look,” you admitted with a small smile.

Bokuto’s eyes grew wide in shock, jumping over the couch to sit down on the floor next to you. He clasped your hands in his, pressing kissing to them gently as well. “I know you might not feel it… but I hope you know that I still think it. I don’t even have to force it. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, and that hasn’t changed even though your body is changing a bit. I don’t need you to wear the most perfect makeup or the best dress for me to think you’re gorgeous. You’re perfect just laying here in my old sweats and I’m happy that I get to come home to see you like this every day,” he grinned, touching your cheek affectionately.

You loved this man. He was so sweet to you in every way possible. But sometimes…. sometimes his sweetness just went a little too overboard. You tried to insist to him that you were pregnant but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything. Man refuses to let you do anything for yourself. No lifting boxes, no lifting anything in fear that you might hurt your back.

“Kōtarō, it’s just my purse,” you tried to point out in a laugh, trying to reach it as he held it above your head.

“Nope! Not happening. What if you hurt yourself?”

“... with my purse?”

“Ya!”

“Kōtarō, I have to go shopping for food or we won’t have anything to eat. And baby needs to eat!”

“Well I’ll come with you then!”

“You’ve got practice!”

“It’s fine, I’ll tell them I’ll practice another time! My perfect wife and baby come first,” he’d grin at you and insist on opening all the doors as you two made your way to the car. You fall in love with this man more and more every day, even if he keeps stealing things from your hands.

Ushijima is a really nervous new dad, even if you can’t really tell from his stoic expression. He listens intently to all of the parenting advice people give, bought a few books about newborns, and has hundreds of tabs on his laptop of ranging topics from baby products people insist are necessary, mommy blogs about what is important to do when pregnant, and research that he doesn’t quite understand but feels is important nonetheless.

Ushijima isn’t necessarily a man of words all the time, so you were surprised to find that he started to talk a lot more after finding out that your child could hear him.

“You don’t have to play volleyball if you don’t want to,” he told them quietly one day while the two of you were on the couch. It came so out of the blue that you actually thought he was talking to you.

“Hm?”

“... do you think they’d want to play volleyball?” He asked you sheepishly, glancing at you with a shy expression.

You thought about it for a moment and slowly started to smile, “Well they’ll be attending every single one of your games so I’m sure they’ll be at least interested in learning!”

Ushijima nodded and you watched as a soft smile graced his face. You kept your eyes on him for just a moment longer, seeing a flicker of uncertainty on him.

“Wakatoshi, don’t you dare think for one second you’ll be a bad dad,” you warned him, poking his side and making him jump from surprised.

He stared at you for a moment, blinking, “You know what I’m thinking?”

“I know that you’ve been worried about being a good dad ever since I told you I was pregnant. I know that you’re nervous about being the kind of dad you always wanted to have growing up. I know because I’m terrified of being a good mom too,” you admitted with a nervous sort of smile, interlacing your fingers together. “We’ll be okay together though.”

Ushijima nodded and hummed softly, “We’ll have to take them to France.”

“France??”

“Satori wants to meet them too. He said he would make them chocolate.”

It wouldn’t just be the baby that Satori is constantly trying to spoil, but you as well. He sends over packages of his chocolate for you to try, grinning ear to ear when you call him for a catch-up call.

“Do you like them?” Tendō asked, and you could hear him humming to himself as he moved around a kitchen.

“I love them! But you’re going to make us fat if you keep sending them! They’re much too yummy for me to stop eating!” You laughed, eyes wandering to the kitchen where you knew you still had a few bits of his chocolate left.

“No no no no. I’m just trying to make sure your baby is a cute healthy plump baby! They’ll grow nice and strong!”

It always made you smile, knowing that all these people who loved your husband wanted to love you and the baby as well. Even Ushijima’s new teammates would come by and bring snacks or anything they thought might aid you in your pregnancy. Though, Kageyama wasn’t really sure what pregnant people or babies liked, so he just brought a whole bag of the milk boxes he liked.

“You’ve got to grow big and strong so that I can defeat you in volleyball one day. I can’t defeat your dad right now… cause he’s on my team. But I’ll defeat an Ushijima one day for sure,” he muttered to your belly with a fierce intensity in your eyes that made you laugh, making his ears turn red as he realized that you also heard him (Kageyama, the baby is attached to her, of course she heard you lol).

As it neared your due date, Ushijima prepared himself mentally every passing day. He wanted to be 110% ready so he went over your birthing plan mentally at least 10 times a day and reread over all the articles and information he had gathered over the months. He wanted to be the best father possible, but you insisted to him that you weren’t worried about this at all. After all, he was already the best husband you could ever have asked for.

haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to join!)

@al0ehas @aurumk @neko-chii1 @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @livy384 @babyshoyo @jesssobs​ @b-bakana​

[acourtofsnakes]

A Helping Hand - Bucky Barnes x Reader (f)

(Gif: @sebastianruinedme​ )

Summary: After a stressful week, you try to wind down with some personal time but nothing quite hits that spot. And a certain Super Soldier may just be more than willing to help you. 

Warnings: 18+ Smut - Masturbation/toys, Oral (f receiving), fingering, neck play, arm/hand kink, dirty talk, a faint Dom theme if you squint, swearing – honestly, Bucky should just be a kink in himself.

Word count: 5k+ words full of hot playtime. 

A/N: This is just filth, to be honest. I was feeling a certain way after watching episode 3 of TFATWS and seeing that scene with Bucky cleaning his hand and… ideas happened, and this was born. There’s not really a plot… simply enjoy. 

Smut under the cut!!

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal​

Part 2

There was something to be said about the advancement of toys in recent years. 

There were hundreds of them. All different types. For all different things. 

Rabbits, waterproof vibrators, pulsating and pounding ones, ones that felt like oral, handsfree vibrators, remote control vibrators – the list went on. 

You had a lot. Tucked in a drawer of your dresser in a pretty box that just made you go all tingly in the knees every time you saw it. 

You were proud of your collection. 

And boy, did you love them. 

They never let you down, ever. 

But unfortunately, tonight was just not one of those nights. 

It has been a tough week. 

Not only had you taken a beating in training yesterday, but you were also late for an appointment across the city, which resulted in being yelled at by Fury. 

You really regretted decided to help him when he needed it. 

There wasn’t a lot going on lately, so you offered to help Fury when he needed it. 

Usually, you were on his food side. 

Yesterday, not so much. 

Everything seemed out to get you, and after the shit show of the week, you just wanted to treat yourself. So, you’d holed yourself up in your room on your floor of the compound, had a long, luxurious soak in the bath, and then decided to work out your anxiety and tension with one of your many, many friends. 

And for the first time in a while, they just weren’t hitting that spot. 

Literally. 

You groaned, throwing the third toy - this one a rabbit that was one of your most trusty companions - on the side of your bed. 

For the last forty minutes, you’d been dancing between three different toys and your fingers. 

You’d tried being on your belly, your side, and your back. You’d even tried a pillow. 

But nothing was the right pressure on your clit, no toy or finger felt deep enough inside, and you couldn’t hit that spot inside without getting a wicked cramp in your wrist that forced you to stop. 

You sat up, every nerve in your body wound to a knife edge, leaving you frustrated and tempted to throttle someone. 

Or get someone to throttle you. 

Preferably whilst pinning you to a wall... or a desk. 

Or anywhere really. 

You just needed something, anything to get out this frustration and give you the release you’d been desperately chasing all night. 

It wasn’t even a case of hovering on the edge - you couldn’t even get there. The fire and heat just stayed a kindling ember in your belly, and never reaching that explosive fire. 

After getting up and downing a measure of whiskey whilst watching the rain, you decided to try a last-ditch attempt with a different toy. 

This one was a curved vibrator, with a thicker rounder head for supposedly perfect pressure on your g-spot. 

Simple, straight forward. 

Surely, if none of the others had done it, this one finally would. 

After settling back on your bed, you took a little more care this time, even going as far to light a few candles to add an ambiance to the room rather than have it pitch black with the sounds of the rain. 

You worked yourself up this time, building it slowly, teasing yourself with brushes of your fingertips over your throat and breasts, setting your skin ablaze. 

You pushed yourself to the edge a little, and then worked over with your vibrator. 

Until ten minutes later, when you literally launched the vibrator across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding thud, that echoed your hiss of frustration.  “Fucking hell.”  

A shit week, a shit day, and you couldn’t even fuck yourself well enough to be able to wind down and get some sleep. 

There was a sudden knock and then Bucky’s voice echoed through your bedroom door. “Darlin’?” There was a slight hint of his Brooklyn accent peeping through at the end, stirring something within you. 

You startled, sitting bolt upright and your head snapped to the door, “Bucky?” You had the good sense to lock the door, but still. He was right there. 

His shadow moved beneath the door, and you realised he was leaning against it, “Is everything alright? I heard banging.” 

Well, no not really. I’ve been trying to get myself off for the last hour and nothing appears to be working and I’m sitting here naked whilst you’re the other side of my door calling me Darling in that ridiculously hot accent that shouldn’t even be that hot. But hey, apart from that, everything’s great. 

You slid off the bed, padding across the room after dropping your toys back in their drawer, glaring at it as you passed. You slipped a robe on before making your way across the fluffy rug to the door, “Yeah, I’m okay...” You unlocked the door, tugging it open. 

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, all broad shoulders, long lines and soft smile. 

His searing blue eyes were instantly locked onto you, a smirk playing on those gorgeous lips.

He cocked his head, standing there with his arms crossed, and you noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Just a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans that hung sinfully close to his hips and... no boots. Just socks. 

Like he’d taken his shoes off before waking into your apartment. 

Ever the gentleman. 

His arm was bare, the soft light of the hall bouncing off of the black vibranium and sparking the gold. You’d always loved his arm. The sheer power of it, the way you’d seen it shatter a man’s ribs instantly and tear through a brick wall like it was made of glass. The same hand that tickled behind the ears of a stray kitten in Prospect Park and test the ripeness of plums at the market. 

You wanted that hand around your throat. 

Eyes the colour of the Arctic sea roamed over your body, from your slightly mussed up hair to the flush along your neck that disappeared in the dip of your dressing gown. “Mm... are you sure about that?” He tilted his coyly, a smirk playing on his lips and you had a feeling this expression had been one of the trademarks since the 40’s. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, more than aware that he was seeing far more than you wanted him to, “I’m fine.” You turned from the door, leaving it open for him to come in, “How comes you’re up on my floor, anyway?” You peered over your shoulder at him as you padded across the room to the drinks cart. 

Yes, there was a bar on your floor, but why couldn’t you have a cart in your room? Tony hadn’t even needed to ask when designing it. 

Bucky walked in, his footfalls silent like a cat, that training never quite leaving him, “I couldn’t sleep. No nightmares, just restless.” He added the last part quickly, in response to the concern that tightened your expression. 

It was nothing unusual, Bucky coming up here to your room.  

You often found each other after nightmares or rough days, seeking comfort and distraction from the darkness that lingered. 

Some days and nights, you went out, needing an outside diversion from the thoughts. 

Other times, you stayed in, watching films, talking, training or just... sitting quietly, knowing that the other persons presence was enough protection and reassurance. Words weren’t needed… just company.  

You handed him a drink, plopping down on the end of your bed and you watched him sink into the couch opposite, “Anything you wanna talk about?” 

Since everything with the War, Bucky was working on fitting back into a routine, into ‘normal’ life - or what could be considered normal for people like yourselves. 

He was undergoing his mandatory therapy sessions, and they seemed to be helping him. 

He was back in contact with Sam, and the pair even worked a few jobs together now and then, even if they did bicker like an old married couple - it provided great entertainment when you tagged along. 

He leant back on the couch, settling his left arm across the back. He always looked at home on your floor, relaxed, like his mind could shut off a little. “Nah, I’m okay... Thank you though.” He shot you an easy smile again, one that he probably hadn’t used in.... decades. “What about you? Why are you up so late?”

Mimicking his shrug, you kept your expression neutral, making sure your eyes didn’t drift to that certain drawer, “Rough week. I was reading to try and drift off.” 

“Mmmhm...” Bucky’s hummed response told you instantly that he did not believe you one bit. “What were you reading? Cosmopolitan’s best guide to toys?” That shit eating grin graced his face and he motioned gracefully with his left hand... to the corner of the room. 

The vibrator you’d launched was sitting on the floor, nestled in the rug, the soft mint green silicone practically a beacon. 

Okay. 

Okay…. So. There were two ways you could respond to this. 

Either play it off, deny it and change the subject. 

Or…

Turning back to him, you shrugged again, “Oh, I’ve read that back to front. And made a few additions myself.” You cocked your head, a faint flutter in your belly as you awaited his response. 

The barest flicker of surprise danced across his beautiful, rugged features before dissolving into something confident and smouldering. “Well, it looks to me like their guide isn’t true to review tonight. Something tells me you’re having a little bit of trouble.” His voice had begun to lower into a deeper, the natural roughness of his voice coming out. 

It stoked that fire within you, warming your blood and curling low in your belly. 

“And if I was? What would you suggest to help?” It was almost impossible to remain sitting still as the atmosphere folded and changed. There was one obvious route to your back and forth… and you wanted it. 

Wanted… him.

And if you were honest, you had for a long time now. There was just something about him that you’d always been drawn to, a simmering tension that settled whenever you were together. 

Bucky rose from the sofa in a fluid movement, walking toward you slowly, casually, but with the grace and prowl of a wolf eyeing up its next meal – you. 

And fuck, you wanted him to devour you. 

He slid his hands into his pockets, feet silent on your wooden floor, “Well… I would say that as wonderful as your toys may be… they’re just that. Toys. They can’t… feel what you like.” His eyes burned through you with each of his steps. “They don’t hear the noises you make when they hit the right spot. They don’t get to see the way your body reacts, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip because it feels overwhelmingly good.” 

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and that only added to the growing wetness between your thighs as his filthy, beautiful words. 

Bucky stopped in front of you, removing his left hand and touching his fingers to your chin to tilt it up to face him, “They can’t know the little things… the deeper angle, that extra finger or sweep of the tongue… they can’t make you so wet that it runs down your thighs and they can’t make you arch off the bed as you shatter into starlight…” He sighed softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I’m afraid they just… can’t make you come the way a real person could.” He applied a little pressure to the underside of your chin, and you rose to your – unsteady -  feet instantly, putty in his hands.  

Holy fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him. 

Your teeth had indeed sunk into your lower lip, and your breathing had grown shallow. It was an effort to keep your thighs firmly locked together… Because you were just as wet as he had said. 

The dark flame in his eyes told you that he knew the reaction you were having to him. He brushed a cool thumb over your lip, then tugged it gently to free it from your teeth and at the same time, he leant his head down to your level, “They can’t make you come like I can, darlin’.” This close, his warm lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice reduced to a husky rasp that only further drew out that Brooklyn accent. 

The soft moan that left your lips was almost pitiful, but you didn’t care, “Shit.” 

You breathed the word, earning a deep chuckle in your ear before Bucky pulled back, only enough to see your face, “You want me to help you? Give you a helping hand?” His words were low and seductive, but he was looking between your eyes, making no more moves until he knew you wanted this. 

If you changed your mind, he would leave right now, and say no more about it. 

That very thought pained you. 

Something had always hovered between you both… and maybe now was the time to let it out. You shared a few kisses on nights out and he had featured heavily in your fantasies night after night, wishing your fingers were his, the toys were him….

You met his eyes, your own clear and sure and you kept that gaze as you parted your lips. Then swept your tongue along his thumb and tilted your head down just enough to take it between your lips. The vibranium was smooth, cold and it felt oddly delightful on your tongue. “Make me come, Bucky. Prove to me you’re better than the toys.” Your voice was low with need, a soft pleading note for him there as you gazed up through your eyelashes. 

The Arctic blue of his eyes deepened to near midnight, his pupils blowing out as he watched you talk around his thumb, your tongue sweeping over the metal and he almost purred, “Oh, baby, you won’t need toys when I’m done.” And then he was on you. 

He gently pulled his hand from your face, instead placing it lightly around your neck, the heavy metal settling on your collarbones and that alone drenched you. 

He looked between your eyes, checking one final time and then his mouth was lowering onto yours, his lips warm, plush and ever so inviting. Instantly, he licked a teasing line along your lips, which you would have parted for him without the request. 

Bucky’s tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against yours in hot strokes as he explored every corner of your mouth. 

He tasted divine, and even more so when his thumb lightly tipped your chin back and he traced the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth, licking over the ridges and showing you exactly what that tongue could do. 

A groan left your lips, and you slid your hands up his arms to those shoulders, those gorgeous broad shoulders that all you wanted to do was dig your nails into them and use for support as you rode him. 

A deep curl of delight and joy was unfurling within the heat in your belly, because you needed this, needed more of him and his hands and his tongue and his words… and you were finally getting it

Hell, he had only just started kissing you and you already could have fallen apart just from that. 

“Why have we not been doing this all the time?” Was the only thought that your already fuzzy mind could come up with as he pulled away slowly from your lips, only to begin pressing hot, open kisses against your jaw that were all teeth and tongue. He seared a path to your neck, kissing all over until he found that particular spot that made you whimper and arch into his body. 

Bucky laughed low against your neck, the sound vibrating, “Oh, baby, you were struggling, weren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess…” He used his hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, before biting at your skin, sweeping his tongue over the hot and sucking a deep mark there. 

A slight whine rippled in your throat, fingers pulling as his shirt and your chest pushed against his, the firm heat of him making your nipples tighten, especially when he pushed into you. 

Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, tugging at the cord of your dressing gown and it slipped from your shoulders, leaving you bare and open to him. 

He licked down your neck, his tongue smoothing over the shape of your collarbones and then down your sternum to your breasts. He butterfly kissed the soft flesh, then almost delicately sucked at your rleft nipple, lifting his vibranium hand to squeeze the other, “So beautiful…” He mumbled it half to himself, his dark mussed up curls soft against your skin. 

One of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, slightly tangling in the hair at the base of his head and you pushed your chest further into his mouth, “Tease.” The word was a soft gasp, your eyes closing in pleasure and your lips parting. 

He chuckled, pulling back to blow a cool breath on the wet skin, watching your nipple harden and then he moved to give the other the same treatment, “Oh, I’m a tease, am I? I can stop if you like.” He grinned around the delicate skin, just slightly grazing his teeth as he tugged your nipple and then he continued his trail of kisses down your body, slowly sinking to his knees. “I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop though, darlin’.” His right hand grasped your ankle, and then he ghosted warm fingertips up your leg, past your knee and then pausing at your inner thigh, at what he felt there, “No. No I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop at all.” 

The cocky bastard grinned once more against your stomach, before dipping his tongue inside your belly button.

“Bucky…” You couldn’t hide the whimper in your voice, nor the way your hips rocked forward in a plea. It was almost painful how much you needed him to touch you, needed to feel his lips and his tongue. 

“Shhh, baby, I know.” His hands slipped up your waist, as soothing as his gentle coo against your belly button and then he brushed his lips lower and lower… and then finally, he pressed a soft butterfly kiss to your pubic bone. 

A low groan tore from his throat, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he saw you, swollen and positively dripping for him, “Oh, darlin’, look at you…” 

The sheer desire and awe in his low voice caused heat to flush along your cheekbones. You weren’t shy by any means, but the almost primal admiration in his voice was something you’d never heard before, the pure want and desire to make you feel good and worship you. 

Bucky admired the sight before him for a single moment, before lifting his eyes to yours and then he dove in, immediately devouring you like he was starving. His deft tongue slipped through your slick folds with ease, and he moaned again at your taste, at your smell, everything. 

He pressed his tongue flat against you before sucking at your clit, with such an intensity that you almost choked. It was a simple movement, but it shot electricity through your body and made every single nerve stand on end. 

He let that coil of energy begin to build, and then he licked back down, his hands sliding down to palm at your ass cheeks before digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you in further so he could bury his nose against your clit and his tongue – fuck, his tongue pushed inside of you, hot and heavy. It just felt so, so good, his nose putting pressure on your bundle of nerves, his tongue pumping inside you. 

Your hands flew down to his hair, winding through it to keep him there, keep him doing that, to keep him fucking you with his tongue, “Buck-”. You weren’t sure what you were begging him for, only that you just needed to say his name, needed to do something. 

Your hips began to rock in time with his thrusts, and you became aware of it only when Bucky’s muffled moan reverberating through you. 

He liked it, no... he loved this, that you were grinding against his face as his tongue worked inside you, tasting parts of you no one else had ever gotten right before. 

“Fuck, Bucky, keep doing that – I’m-” You cut off with a high moan, your head tilting back as you rocked into him faster, chasing down that high that was so tantalisingly close. It hadn’t taken long, you were so worked up from your failed attempts that you were already there. 

Bucky’s began to lick and suck you with new fervour, his head moving in time with the jerks of his hips, feeling the way your walls were tightening around his tongue. His fingers dug harder into your ass, and you felt the silent command almost, Come. 

And you did. 

You cried his name out to the sky, every nerve in your body winding to near painful tautness before you shattered on his face, your first orgasm ripping through you. 

Bucky didn’t stop, working you through it and drawing it out further and further as he lapped up every single drop you gave him, moaning himself like it was the most tantalising thing he had ever tasted. 

He stopped only when your grip released on his hair, the sensitivity of your nerves almost painful, your legs shaking like crazy and he lifted his hand from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening. He rose from his knees, nudging you back onto the bed and instantly crawling up your body, “You have no idea how good you taste.” 

You whimpered slightly, catching your breath as you watched him crawl up you, eyes burning like sapphire fire, his tongue licking slowly over his lips as he savoured you. Words were beyond you, desire still coursing through your veins and you were a little in awe at how quickly – and hard – he had brought you to your first orgasm. 

Bucky grinned devilishly, “That won’t be your last.” He lowered his mouth back to yours and as you tasted yourself on him, you grew instantly wet for him again. 

His body brushed into yours and you felt how painfully hard he was through his jeans, the sounds and taste of you getting to him of course. 

Your fingers had barely brushed against his restrained length when he shook his head, nipping at your lower lip, “Oh no, baby, this is all about you.” 

You ignored him, palming him through his jeans and he moaned lowly before his eyes flashed, his hand suddenly back on your throat and he moved his hips away so you couldn’t get to him. “I said no.” It was almost a snarl, “This is about you. Not me.” His hand tightened just slightly around your throat, making it that little bit harder to breathe and your eyes rolled back at how delicious it felt. 

It was a huge kink for you, the idea of someone – of Bucky - taking control, being in control of your body even it was just for a little while. You didn’t need to think or do anything. Only feel and be at the mercy of his touch. 

You relented, legs falling open for him and you tilted your head back, searching for his lips. 

Bucky granted you the kiss, a slow, languid kiss at first that was all simmering passion and tangling tongues, the taste on you still lingering on his lips. 

He palmed your breast again, tugging and squeezing the flesh until he scratched his nails lightly down your ribcage and belly. 

Yes, yes-

He wasted no time, no more playing and his fingers slipped lower, circling over your clit with a delicious pressure that had you instantly moaning into his mouth.

He toyed with your clit a little more, before gathering your wetness and then sinking two fingers inside you, pushing all the way into his knuckles, then drawing back out slowly. 

As he withdrew, you moaned long and slow into his mouth and he began a steady rhythm. Pushing and curling his fingers inside you a few steps, then circling and pulling at your clit, ever so subtly switching it up with each pass so you couldn’t predict what he would do.  

It felt amazing, but… there was something still missing. It still wasn’t quite enough to send you over that final edge… it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about. 

No, it was his left hand. That dark, golden vibranium hand that was currently seated around your throat. 

The knowledge of what it could do, the sheer power in it that could easily crush your windpipe or shatter your jaw with a single flick of his wrist. 

That is what you needed. 

Those cool, powerful fingers inside you, working you over – that was the best toy. 

It was like he could read your mind somehow, or the way your body sung to his tune. He lifted his head, looking down at you with those searing blues and he cocked his head, a slow grin lighting his gorgeous face, “Oh… This-” he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and ever so slightly brushing up against that spot, “isn’t quite what you want, is it, darlin’?” 

Holy Christ, he was going to destroy you before you even got what you wanted.

You looked up at him, panting, hips rocking to the slower thrust of his fingers and you shook your head.

Bucky swore softly, panting himself and he squeezed your throat once before lifting his fingers, “You want these, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, you ducked your head, taking his three fingers into your mouth and immediately gliding your tongue around them, up and down in slow, dirty strokes. 

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky’s hips jerked slightly against yours, his mouth parting as he watched you suck his vibranium fingers, hollowing your cheeks, eyes rolling back in your head like… like it was something else entirely. 

He groaned, swore again and then almost ripped his fingers from your mouth and from between your legs at the same time. 

Your entire body mourned the loss, feeling empty, clenching around nothing but mere seconds later, he plunged those three vibranium fingers inside of you, slick with your saliva and how unbelievably wet you were. 

It stung a little, but only added to the feeling as your hips rose off the bed, “Shit, shit-”

They felt… like the best toy you could ever imagine. Smooth, cold, and hard enough that you could feel every faint ridge of the joints as he slid them in and out. You reached out, grabbing his arm with one hand and the bed with the other, needing something to hold onto as instinct took over. Your hips rode upwards, back arching as you rocked his fingers in deeper, feeling them in your spine almost. It was better than you could have imagined. 

Bucky dropped his head to your chest, spreading his mouth over your breast and his other arm slid over your hips, pinning them to the bed so you were forced to take it. “You wanted this, baby… You take it.” He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast before smoothing his tongue over it again, working an alternative rhythm to his fingers and thumb again, so that your brain couldn’t keep up with which one to follow. It knew only the waves of fire singing through your veins.  

Time may have very well dissolved, because you could only feel pleasure, tinged almost with pain. 

The thick, hard stroking of fingers as they stretched and wrecked you. 

The circling, hard-soft-hard pressure of his thumb on your clit. 

The bite of his teeth on your breasts, neck and chest, followed by the wet press of his tongue. 

The way he couldn’t help his hips slightly rocking against your leg. 

This was almost like a fever dream, expect your brain couldn’t have come up with something this mind melting. Not even if you were really, really worked up. 

The noises in the room were absolutely sinful. The unrestrained cries and moans from your lips, Bucky’s groans and his filthy words, the wet pump of his fingers inside you – it was obscene, filthy and completely, painfully mind-blowing. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, please-” You had no idea what you were begging for, but every single nerve and muscle in your body was coiling tighter and tighter, your hips jerking against his arm as he pinned you down, forcing you to take this, to feel everything he was doing with no relenting. Tears were beginning to blur your eyes and the pleasure he unleashed upon you was almost painful. 

Bucky somehow moved his fingers harder, deeper, the ability of the tech in his arm allowing him to do so, “Let go, baby, come on, let it go for me..” He dropped his head, biting down on your neck and he pressed his fingers against that spot inside you, flicking your clit with his thumb and then it all just snapped. 

Waves and waves of hot fire flooded your body, dragging you up to the stars, further. It ripped the air from your lungs, made you half scream his name in a never-ending prayer. 

It just didn’t stop. 

Bucky kept moving inside you, drawing out every single second of your mind-shattering orgasm, letting go of your hips so you could grind them into his hand. “That’s it, baby… Look at you, so beautiful like that…” His praise spurred you on, making you feel almost like a goddess as you flooded his hand. 

He stopped only when you slumped back onto the bed, sucking in deep breaths as you tried to piece yourself back together. 

Better than toys indeed. 

~~

A little while later, you stirred from a light dose to see Bucky lounging on your couch again, cleaning the grooves and metal of his fingers with a soft cloth. 

The sight of him concentrating, taking such care and detail with the clean-up, the cleanup from the mess you had made, had you instantly wet again. “Bucky.” 

He looked up, hearing the low thrum to your voice and a smirk crossed his lips. 

You had a favour to repay for his helping hand, after all.