#tiff writings

[ordinary-barbie]

scary dog privileges.

summary: Nobody's messing with you as long as Rafe Cameron is around.

pairing: rafe x sweet!pogue!reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fem!reader, swearing, a guy acts like a creep towards reader, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex (protected), mutual orgasms

note: dipping my toes into obx fanfic after hyperfixating/crushing on Drew Starkey and reading a ton of Rafe stories, haha. I have not seen the show but I'm shooting my shot here anyway!

~~~~

They say that opposites attract, which couldn't be more accurate regarding your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was the Kook king of Kildare Island, someone who oozed cockiness and arrogance. Meanwhile, you were a soft-spoken Pogue. When people spotted the two of you together, they couldn't wrap their heads around it, and frankly, neither could you. Rafe had his pick of any girl on the island - especially the Kooks - but somehow he only had eyes for you, which warmed your heart.

It all started last year, with a party at Tannyhill to celebrate your class graduating from high school. You were content to stay under your covers, binging Love Island Australia on Hulu, but your friend Olivia had begged you to come with her. Eventually, you relented, your curiosity about one of Rafe Cameron's famous parties getting the better of you.

Within five minutes, you'd ran into Rafe—literally. You'd been swaying to the music and accidentally bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt. You'd been mortified, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping him clean up.

Rafe was a goner ever since.

Now it was time for another Tannyhill bash to celebrate the start of summer, and you were squarely by Rafe's side. In the year you'd been together, you'd discovered how protective your boyfriend was. He held onto you like an anchor, always having an arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, no matter if he was talking to Topper and Kelce or kicking some rando's ass at beer pong. You appreciated it; parties often made you feel like a nervous baby deer, and it was nice to have someone to hold on to.

Unfortunately, you couldn't always be joined at the hip. "I'm gonna piss but I'll be right back, baby," Rafe promised, giving your ass a light squeeze on the way to the bathroom. As soon as your boyfriend was out of sight, your smile dropped. While you'd made an effort to get to know Rafe's friends, you were still incredibly nervous in a house full of Kooks.

To kill some time, you scrolled through Instagram, giggling at Olivia's latest story. She'd posted herself having a "friendly pizza sesh" with a guy, but you knew she'd had a huge crush on him since high school.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over you. "What's got you laughing like that, pretty girl?" You jumped, startled by the unfamiliar male voice.

A smirking guy with short, curly dark brown hair and glinting hazel eyes sauntered up to you. "Hey, I'm Aidan. I'm new in town—but maybe a cute thing like you could show me around?" he lazily drawled.

Your skin prickled with discomfort. You suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, but you forced yourself to smile anyway. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

Aidan laughed, undeterred, and leaned into you. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's kinda hot," he whispered into your ear, making your stomach churn.

"I said no thanks," you responded, laughing nervously. You should run. You needed to get out of there. But for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the spot, trapped with Aidan and the pungent stench of his cologne.

Aidan pouted, using his arms to pin you against the wall. "C'mon babe, just give me a chance. I don't bite."

"How many times is she gonna tell you to fuck off before you get the point?" Relief flooded your chest at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fuck off, dude? We were having a moment."

Rafe glared at Aidan, his eyes blazing with rage, and grabbed the other boy by the collar of his Lacoste polo. "That's my girlfriend, you jackass. And you're gonna step the fuck away from her. Now."

You suddenly felt a zinging sensation in your core, turned on by Rafe's behavior. He was so sweet and silly and kind but could turn into a snarling dog in an instant — definitely not someone to fuck around with.

Rafe released Aidan's collar and the brunette gulped, suddenly trembling with fear.

"I - I'm sorry man. I had no idea," Aidan stammered. "I'll leave her alone."

Rafe wrapped a protective arm around your waist, scowling at Aidan. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Aidan meekly nodded, scurrying out of Tannyhill. The party filled with laughter, with people cheering Rafe on. But Rafe ignored the commotion, only focused on you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there to protect you from that—that asshat," Rafe apologetically said, tenderly stroking your cheek. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by the warmth radiating from his body.

"It's okay, Rafe," you assured him. "It's not like you could take me into the bathroom with you."

Rafe frowned, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe I should. Can't have these fuckin creeps tryna mess with my girl."

You laughed, shaking your head at your well-meaning boyfriend. "I adore you, but I'm not gonna stand there and watch you pee."

Rafe flashed you a lopsided grin. "Why not? We've done way worse things in there. That poor sink has seen some shit."

You playfully shoved Rafe's shoulder. "Rafe Alexander Cameron! I can't believe my knight in shining armor is so crass."

"Don't act like you don't love it, baby," he casually replied, kissing your neck. You let out a soft moan, tilting upward so Rafe could have more access.

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Topper fake retching. "Begging y'all to please get a room," he pleaded. You couldn't help but snicker at Topper's dramatics.

Rafe lazily flipped off his friend before whisking you off to his bedroom and locking the door. "Get on the bed for me, pretty girl," Rafe said huskily, brushing his lips against your ear. Damn, that nickname sounded so much sexier from Rafe's lips than that douche from earlier. (Aaron? Andrew?)

You kicked off your sandals and laid down on top of Rafe's king-sized bed, pulling off your dress and underwear. Rafe quickly shed himself of his clothes and laid on top of you, kissing down every inch of your body.

"So I'm your knight in shining armor, huh? Well let me give my princess the treatment she deserves," Rafe drawled, relishing in the way your body reacted to his touch.

He plunged two fingers inside you, pumping them in and curling them right against your sweet spot. You gasped, loving the way he stretched you out. Rafe had been the only guy you'd ever slept with and at this point, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else; how could you, when you've only experienced the best?

You began to crave more than just his fingers, however. "Rafey," you whined, fully overcome with lust.

Rafe chuckled, lazily rubbing at your clit. "Use your words, princess. Tell me how to make you feel good."

You gulped, still feeling a little timid when it came to expressing your desires in the bedroom. "I need—I need your mouth, Rafey. Please."

Rafe knitted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "Where, baby? Your lips? Your cheek? Your forehead?"

"Rafe Cameron. Eat my pussy before I explode," you begged, your horniness taking over.

Rafe smirked, pulling his fingers out of you before slowly running his tongue across your folds. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Almost as much as I love this sweet little pussy. She's already so wet for me, holy shit."

You whimpered, arching your back in ecstasy as Rafe continued to pleasure you, kissing and sucking at your clit. You felt that familiar fire in your stomach, a sure sign that your climax was fast approaching.

"Oh, Rafe—'m gonna cum," you moaned, your legs shaking. Rafe sped up his movements, rubbing your clit with his thumb and index finger while pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. Eventually the dam burst and you felt your orgasm wash over you as your legs clamped down on either side of Rafe's head.

You took a minute to come down from your high, admiring the sight of your boyfriend with mussed-up hair and your glistening slick decorating his face. Even while looking totally disheveled, Rafe was a work of art.

Rafe wiped his face with the back of his hand, savoring the rest of your juices on his fingers. "Always my favorite meal baby," he purred. "But now I need to be inside you. Turn around for me, princess."

You shifted your position on the bed so you were lying on your stomach while Rafe rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. You heard him unwrapping the foil packet and rolling the condom on before feeling the head of Rafe's cock teasing your hole. You let out a breathy moan, loving and loathing the teasing simultaneously.

Rafe held on to your hips as he pushed into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he grunted. "So warm and tight f'me."

The din of the party going on downstairs faded away, and you could only focus on the sounds of sex occurring in the room: the duet of moans between Rafe and you, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A year ago, you couldn't imagine coming out of your shell like this. But now? Well—

"Gonna cum again, Rafey," you breathily blurted out, feeling your pussy clench down on Rafe's cock.

"Fuck yeah, princess, just come all over my cock," Rafe groaned.

Almost as if on cue, you felt your climax wash over you, and Rafe helped you ride out your orgasm before spilling his load into the condom. You had a fleeting thought about Rafe shooting his cum inside you instead, but you weren't quite ready for that yet.

You and Rafe took a minute to catch your breaths before he took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. He rolled over on his side, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Baby, you're incredible," Rafe murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling light and airy inside. "Rafe, you're incredible. Thanks for being my scary dog earlier."

"I'm sorry, 'scary dog?'" Rafe repeated with a laugh.

"Scary dog privilege. It's something I saw on TikTok," you explained. "Basically it means that if you're with an intimidating-looking person, people will leave you alone because they don't want to mess with a scary dog. And seeing you be protective like that? It was pretty hot."

Rafe fondly gazed at you, stroking your hip. "Well shit, I'll be your scary dog anytime then, baby."

[barnesafterglow]

the art of missing someone

summary: bucky barnes was a lot, but he would always be yours

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: brief college then modern au, little bit of angst, don't ask if this is based off personal experience i will cry, smut (MINORS DNI!) [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving)], confessions, idk man i'm just here

a/n: first fic of 2025!! this was a bitch and i still lowkey hate it but it is what it is

main masterlist - i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary for updates!

The thing about Bucky Barnes was, well, he’s kind of an asshole.

In a funny way, really, but an asshole through and through and, for some reason, that did it for you.

It did it for you so much, in fact, that you had been going in circles with him for years now. You met him originally at a party in college; you didn’t know anyone except for your roommate, Natasha, and she introduced you. You immediately gravitated towards him, with his quick wit and sharp opinions, you felt like you could talk to him about anything. He kept close to you the entire night, getting more touchy as the evening dragged on, until the tipping point came.

You were finishing up a game of beer pong where you and Bucky absolutely dominated, and as you sank the last cup, he picked you up, swinging you around before setting you back on your feet. The thing is, he didn’t really let you go. You stood there, in the middle of a crowded party, with his arms around you and it was like everyone else disappeared.

Searching your eyes for permission, he bent his head down and his lips met yours and that was really the beginning of it all. It was unlike any kiss you had ever had, sweet but a little desperate and you craved more.

It became a thing, after that. You would see Bucky at a party, make nice for a few hours, then end up in a closet or empty bedroom making out until someone came to find you.

But more than that, Bucky became your friend. He was who you talked to in your darkest moments, who you sent stupid videos to, everything, and you liked it like that.

That is, until everything got turned on its head.

It happened right after graduation. You had just moved into your own apartment and were waiting for Bucky to come over for movie night. You hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, the communication very much lacking, but you figured it was just a busy time for both of you and once you got settled, everything would be fine.

That is, until you got a phone call as you closed the microwave door and started the popcorn. Immediately seeing Bucky’s name, you wiped your hands and answered.

“Hey, you almost here?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a sigh.

“I- I don’t know how to say this,” Bucky started, and you found yourself growing nervous. There was nothing you and Bucky couldn’t talk about. Well, almost nothing. “Me and Dot, well, we’ve been talking and…”

His voice trailed off, the line going quiet again. But you were going to make him say it.

“We’re getting back together. She really wants to make it work this time.”

And there it was. Dot was Bucky’s on again-off again for the last several years, stretching back to before you even knew him, and it was a sore spot in your friendship. They had mostly been “off” in the time you’d known him, save for a few memorable occasions where she wormed her way back into his life for a couple weeks just to break his heart all over again. It was safe to say she was not your favorite person, and you certainly weren’t hers.

“Bucky…” you started, but he cut you off.

“No, I know what you’re thinking.” He actually probably had no clue how evil the thoughts you had were, but you weren’t going to enlighten him. “But it’s serious this time, we’ve been talking since graduation and we’re both ready to give this a real shot, without all the bullshit.”

He sounded so sincere, and he was your best friend, so you took a deep breath and sighed, accepting the fact that if you wanted Bucky in your life, this was just something you would have to deal with.

You could hear his relieved laugh on the other end, and you felt your stomach give an odd lurch, like someone had pulled a carpet out from under you.

“I knew you would understand, thank you.”

“Of course, Buck. Now, what about movie night?”

Another beat of silence, then, just like you knew it would happen:

“I can’t, Dot is coming over.”

You wanted to argue, to scream, to make him feel bad about choosing her over you, but hadn’t he already? So instead, you mumbled a quiet agreement and hung up, not wanting to talk to him any longer. Already, it felt like the beginning of the end.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

-

It didn’t even happen slowly, is the worst part. You didn’t see Bucky that night, or any night for the weeks that followed. It wasn’t until you saw him at the coffee shop by your apartment that you were able to talk to him.

You sat down at his table, no longer interested in placid excuses and apologies, and asked him point blank what was going on.

“I’m just trying to keep Dot happy.”

“By staying away from me?” You were frustrated, sure, but under that really you were just hurt. “Listen, you know I don’t like her, but I would never ask you to choose between us. That’s not fair and if she cared about you like she said she does, then she wouldn’t either.”

“It’s not like that!” His voice was raising, just a little, so you knew he was just being defensive. He must have heard it too because he cleared his throat, voicing going back to normal. “I just don’t want to cause any problems.”

You nodded, grabbing your coffee as you stood up, and headed for the door. If he was willing to let your friendship go, then you weren’t going to fight him on it. So you left, face heated with embarrassment and tears threatening to spill over.

As you passed the threshold to the coffee shop back onto the sidewalk, you pulled your headphones on, ignoring the bustle of the city and Bucky still watching you leave through the window.

-

Adjusting to a life without Bucky was weird, you had to admit, but you did it anyway. The first few weeks were the hardest, when he was the first person you wanted to text during any occasion, but eventually that muscle memory faded until you were reaching out to the people who actually valued you in their life. 

Almost a year passed, and you moved on in all the ways you could. You heard Bucky moved back across the river to Brooklyn and that was about all you knew; your friends avoided the mention of even his name if they could help it, even though you knew at the very least Steve and Natasha still talked to him.

You just hoped he was happy, no matter what he was doing.

It was a cold January night when the notification came through. Wanda had recently convinced you to get on a dating app, even though you were perfectly content being single, thank you, but you had to admit the attention didn’t hurt.

You weren’t expecting much when your phone chimed and you unlocked it without even looking at the notification. Which is how you came face to face with Bucky’s Hinge profile, and a message attached to a picture of you that you knew he had taken saying: hey, you look familiar.

Was that really how he was going to make amends, on a dating app?

You supposed it was kind of funny, in that asshole way of his, and you stared at the message for another moment before responding.

oh, i know you?

if you want to

And, well, that was the thing. You did want to. No matter what he did, no matter how much he hurt you, he was still your best friend. Your Bucky.

Instead of answering, you pulled up a contact you hadn’t opened in months and pressed call. It rang one time before a familiar voice flooded the other end.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Hey, Buck.”

It was a healthy conversation, if you were being honest. Bucky apologized, told you he and Dot were done for good this time and, against your better judgment, you accepted it. You talked for hours after that, catching up on life and reminiscing on old memories, until you checked the time.

“Shit, it’s late,” you said as you put the phone back to your ear. “Almost midnight.”

And then, the words you dreaded but wanted desperately.

“Come over.”

“To Brooklyn? Buck I can’t take the subway this late.”

“I’ll pay for your Uber. Just come over.” You could hear the words he wanted to say, the ones on the tip of his tongue that he just wouldn’t force out.

“Well, I did miss you.” You tried to press it, to make him say it, but he only hummed on the other end.

“So is that a yes?”

You looked down at yourself, cozied up in sweatpants and a hoodie that you were almost entirely sure was Bucky’s, and sighed.

“Yes.”

“Perfect, your Uber will be there in 8 minutes.”

You didn’t have time to wonder how he got your new address - probably one of your mutual friends, maybe he had been keeping more tabs on you than you had on him - and shot up from the couch. With no time to change, you headed to the bathroom and brushed your teeth before taming your hair in the best way you could. As you were stuffing some clothes in an overnight bag - just in case, you told yourself - your phone chimed with a text from Bucky that your Uber had arrived. 

In a whirlwind, you rushed to the car where the driver seemed very put off at having to wait a whole 90 seconds for you to walk four flights of stairs, and slid in.

The whole ride there you were nervous. The thing with Bucky was, despite many drunken hookups, you’d never actually had sex. You weren’t really sure why, just that it had never happened and you had been grateful for it in the long run. You weren’t even sure if it would happen tonight, if he still wanted you like that. Even with all your talking and catching up, you hadn’t been brave enough to ask what this meant.

At nearly 1am, your Uber pulled up outside a beautiful Brooklyn brownstone and, there on the front porch, stood Bucky.

He wrapped you in his arms as he stood in front of you, and it all felt so heartbreakingly familiar you gave in immediately, all the tension leaking from your body at the feeling Bucky gave you. 

“Hey,” he said softly into your hair. “Come on in.”

Bucky’s house was so far from his old college apartment it was frightening, yet it couldn’t have felt more like Bucky. More like home. 

You took in your surroundings, shelves of books and vintage furniture and warm tones, it was almost like stepping back into your own place, the aesthetics were so similar. That was the funny feeling in your chest, you were sure.

Eventually, you ended up on Bucky’s couch with some superhero movie on, not really watching it but still grateful for its background noise to fill the room with each lull in the conversation. Not that there were many, one thing that came easy with Bucky had always been talking - although neither of you did much of that when it really mattered; you figured you could put that out of your mind for now. 

Over the course of the movie, you and Bucky shifted closer together until your thighs were pressed flush and you could feel the air from each of his exaggerated hand movements. It wasn’t until a wayward wave nearly grazed your nose that you truly realized how close you had become, and the sight of Bucky’s eyes shifting subtly to your lips has your self restraint at an all time low.

Fuck it, you thought. You had wanted this for so long, but you also knew you could live without Bucky if everything went tits up. It was a sad thought, that, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go. With every bit of courage you had, you let your hand float up to cup Bucky’s cheek, eyes searching for any sort of hesitation. When you found none, you leaned forward to close the admittedly small gap between your lips.

It was electric. Never had a kiss from someone else ever lit a fire inside you the way one from Bucky did. It started off slow, searching, a chance to reacquaint yourselves. But the second Bucky’s hand reached to tangle in your hair, everything shifted. 

Suddenly you were pulled in Bucky’s lap, legs straddling his, lips desperate for a taste of what you’d missed for so long. It was everything you hadn’t let yourself wish for, and you had a feeling you weren’t going to be missing it again anytime soon.

It wasn’t until your shirts were on the floor and Bucky was making quick work of your clasped bra that you thought maybe it would be smart to just slow down. Just for a second, just to get your bearings. 

An honest to god whine fell from his lips as you pulled back, stopping his hands from undressing you any further. 

“Buck,” you whispered, forehead pressed to his, hands cupping his face as if he was something precious. Though you supposed he was, to you at least. “What’s going on?”

“I just…” His voice trailed off, obviously unsure of himself even though this at least was familiar territory. What was to come next, however, was not. “I can’t go another day without making you mine.”

Your core tightened at the words, vivid memories of what Bucky’s hands and mouth could do; fantasies of what else he could do invaded as well as suddenly talking didn’t seem like a priority anymore. 

“Take me to bed.” And that was all he needed. 

Bucky scooped you up bridal style, carrying you across the threshold of his bedroom and laying you gently on his bed. Your eyes darted around, wanting more of snippets of the life Bucky had built here, but you were quickly distracted by his body covering yours, the weight of him pressed between your thighs was comforting and intoxicating. 

Bucky’s touch proved even more distracting as he shed you of your bra, mouth immediately latching to one nipple, the little nips and sucks enough to drive you crazy on their own, while his hands pinched at the other. He continued his assault until you were dizzy with want, then he trailed down your body with his mouth, not leaving an inch of skin undiscovered until he reached the waistband of your sweatpants.

He pulled them down just an inch, then his eyes shot up to meet yours at the discovery. 

“No underwear?” His voice was deep, husky, almost fucked out if you really thought about it. It was a thrill that your hold on him was so tight that just the thought of you without underwear was enough to leave him reeling just a little bit. 

You batted your eyes innocently. “Someone didn’t give me much warning about my Uber, I apologize.”

The giggle in your voice suggested the insincerity of your apology, but it didn’t deter Bucky as he pulled your pants from your body, mouth and hands still exploring. 

His fingers traced unknown patterns along your inner thighs, gently pushing them apart until you were fully exposed to him. You felt nervous all of a sudden, like you had never been in this position before. You had, of course, but never sober, and never with Bucky looking at you so attentively - like he was going to eat you alive. 

It was intense, having Bucky’s eyes bore into you as he lowered his mouth to your core, starting with gentle kitten licks until your hips were bucking, searching for more friction. One of his hands pinned your hips to the bed, while the other slipped through your folds, spreading spit and slick, before he slipped one inside of you. Then two, then three, until you were begging for release.

All it took was a soft whisper of come on, baby and a crook of Bucky’s fingers and you were falling apart, the intensity of your orgasm whipping through you, and as you floated back down to your senses, Bucky was still going. 

It was feverish, like he couldn’t get enough of your pleasure, and each twitch and moan encouraged him until your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him away from your spent body.

He let out a protest, but you silenced it by pressing your lips to his, moaning at the taste of yourself as his tongue pressed into your mouth. You were lost in the sensation, letting yourself be manhandled until you were once again in Bucky’s lap. Sometime while you had been transported to another planet, his pants had been shed and you were oh so close to getting everything you ever wanted. 

With your mouth still pressed to his, you rolled your hips, feeling the weight of him sliding along you. You kept at it, teasing and grinding until he thrust his hips and there it was; one slight adjustment and the feeling of Bucky stretching you out to was more overwhelming than you could have imagined.

Your hips stilled, as did Bucky’s, letting you adjust to him until you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, your way of telling him that you were okay, that he could move.

His thrusts started slowly, letting you feel every inch of him until you were begging for more. When his hands stopped roaming to grip your hips tightly, you knew you were done for.

Bucky held you in place, his hips snapping up to fuck into you and all you could do was hold on for the ride. 

You were so overwhelmed you almost missed Bucky’s words, mixed in with his moans, but once you caught them, they were as clear as day:

I missed you.

Over and over, Bucky was repeating the words, interspersed with groans and heavy panting, but your heart restricted regardless 

He missed you. Bucky missed you.

With your thoughts such a jumbled mess, reveling in the fact that this was really happening, your orgasm snuck up on you. One second you were floating on the high of Bucky and the next you were crashing, falling, and he was right there to catch you as you came down.

His hips slowed, stuttering as he spilled into you with one final thrust.

For a moment, the world around you didn’t exist. All there was was this moment, with Bucky’s arms around you and your head buried in his shoulder. Everything came back at once: your harsh breaths, the noise of the TV far away in the living room, and Bucky’s hushed whispers as he held you.

“I missed you so much.” You didn’t respond for a moment, but you lifted your head to meet Bucky’s eyes. In them lay the sincerity of his words, vulnerable now that they weren’t being said in the heat of the moment.

“I missed you too, Buck.”

[crazygnomenclature]

Hi there I just want to say I absolutely love your comics and your characters! How do you write such good characters?

Hey, thank you! I really love my characters and have put a lot of work into letting them express themselves.

I've actually gotten asked about how I write characters before, so if you don't mind, I'm going to use your post here to talk about my own process.

The best writing advice I've gotten comes from this video clip by Yahtzee Crowshaw. To summarize it: A character needs only 4 things: a goal, strengths to help them achieve that goal, flaws for them to overcome, and a quirk to make them memorable. Then consider how those traits will cause that character to interact with other characters and the world.

Eve wants to be respected by her friends and look out for them. She's tough and direct, but has the tendency to go overboard or act without thinking. She's very much the tom-boy jock type, doesn't take crap, and enjoys building things.

My personal test for seeing if a character is fleshed out enough is by dropping them in a room with a locked door and imagining what they do next. Eve would body check the door while Tiff would try knocking. If all I can imagine is a character standing in the room staring blankly and waiting, then I need to work on that character a little more.

[turtleplushi]

I still really like Frog Wild. I think it's a neat episode.

But what if Meta Knight

[smileysvech]

You’re so dumb and poetic

It’s just what I fall for, I like the aesthetic

Dumb & Poetic – Sabrina Carpenter

short n’ sweet moodboard series masterlist

tagging: @pyotrkochetkov @senditcolton @mendeshoney @cowboybarzy @fallinallincurls @comphy-and-cozy @jostystyles @jost-tyson

[etherealrin]

in my eyes rin is so delicate by taylor swift coded.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

After reading @deadandgonefics Failure to Thrive I have been filled with the inspiration to ponder how much things would've changed if one thing went differently. In their fic, they have Donna driving through the wall happen when Carmen's 11. It's got me wondering what would've happened if Richie 'chose' Tiff instead of Mikey.

I feel like it's implied that Richie had to deal with Mikey's drug addiction the most, at the cost of his marriage. And it made me wonder what would've happened if Richie maybe stopped picking Mikey up when he called him high and not knowing where he was. He stopped trusting Mikey alone with Eva, despite him being her godfather, because he doesn't know what he might be on or might do, and it breaks his heart don't worry.

Tiff sees how Richie's not getting any sleep from waiting for Mikey to call, or having to drive around for an hour as he tries to find where Mikey is. She's had enough when Richie brings him home to sleep on their couch, even though she's told him she doesn't feel comfortable with Mikey sleeping there when Eva's in the house, and overhears Richie trying to get Mikey to calm down and go to bed when he's having none of it.

We know Mikey's a loud guy, when he gets angry, he snaps and that's it. Richie's become an expert on reading what mood Mikey's in based on what he's taken, and he knows he's pissed. Mikey doesn't know what he's doing when he lashes out at Richie. Tiff watches on in horror as Richie takes it and manages to get Mikey to go to bed. He turns around, expecting a fight, only for Tiff to point out that he has a nosebleed. She sees to the nosebleed and firmly tells him that he's not doing this anymore. Mikey will have to deal with the consequences, if he wants to get so high he doesn't know where he is, he'll have to find his own way home. She think of her mother, a less charismatic version of Donna.

Tiff kicks Mikey out and tells Richie to set some boundaries. How is Mikey ever going to know he needs help if everyone's constantly making up for his shortfalls? He needs to actually face how he's messing up the Beef, how he's pushing everyone away, how he's messing himself up. Richie can't fix Mikey's life and live his own. Tiff barely feels married to him anymore.

Mikey jokingly asks what Tiff's problem is when he and Richie are at the Beef, Richie doesn't have the heart to tell him how he gets when he's high, and how Richie's had to get used to hiding bruises like he's a teen all over again.

Something happens, and Mikey overdoses, Richie gets mad when he tries to call Natalie and Carm and they don't respond. He takes Mikey to the hospital but leaves them both voicemails, a very angry one to Carmen about how it's all well and good that he's off being the best chef in the world, but he can't return one call, he can't send a text message. Richie ends up letting everything out to Carmen and basically threatens him to come home and see his brother.

Richie doesn't expect him to actually answer. But Carmen, in New York, is just finding out that Mikey's using drugs, and dangerous ones too. He throws up after booking a flight home and goes to the hospital with Natalie, Mikey's in a coma. Richie tells him what happened before admitting that he didn't event think he'd listen to the voicemail, he's never listened to them before. Richie then walks out

[dayas]

44. If you die, I’m going to kill you + Rivusa 🤭

Drabble Prompts

Tiff I’ve literally been waiting all week for this 😵‍💫 let’s get into it! 😁

—

Musa knew fear. Quite well, actually. It coursed through her veins the day her mother died, flooded her as Sam lay in the infirmary, and engulfed her when she considered the depths and limitations of her own power. Musa and fear were close friends. But Riven? He was fearless. At least, that was what she thought, before she saw his eyes flash in a panic.

“Fuck, fuck,” she muttered, kneeling down to where his body was, halfway hidden behind bushes.

“How did you find me?” he gasped, staring up at her.

“You called me.”

She’d felt it the moment he was injured, the depths of his mind screaming out her name. She screamed then too, calling for him as she ran through the forest. She had no idea how he did it, or how deep their bond ran, but she couldn’t consider that currently. Not when his blood squelched beneath her knees, painting the grasses he laid on a horrifying crimson. She ripped her shirt, tying it around his stomach as tightly as she could.

“Musa,” Riven coughed, “if I don’t make it…”

“Shut the fuck up, Riv,” Musa said, hiding her terror behind pure anger. How dare he. How dare he even consider leaving her here.

“You’re going to make it, because if you die, I’ll kill you.”

“You’re cute when you’re angry.”

It was half a breath and it obviously pained him to say it, even if he was trying to pretend that it didn’t. Musa huffed, hauling him to his feet. She couldn’t heal him here.

“Just hold on, okay?” she told him, quieter, hating the way her voice quivered. “I need you to hold on for me.”

Riven grunted what Musa could only assume was his agreement. She set off, halfway carrying him until they reached Alfea’s gates.

“He needs a healer, now!” she yelled as she stormed through the doors. Two Specialists darted forward to carry him. She followed quickly, staying by his side as they set him down. Riven lurched forward off the bed they’d placed him on, convulsing. Musa’s hand shot out, tightly grasping his.

“What are you doing?” a Specialist snapped at her.

She returned their words in an enraged hiss.

“Taking his pain so when someone who can actually fucking help him gets here, he doesn’t take their head off with his flailing body. That alright with you?”

Her glare was ferocious enough to quiet any further disagreements. Musa knelt down next to his bed, focusing as she squeezed Riven’s hand. She bit down on her lip until she tasted blood when she took his pain, doing all she could to keep from crying out in front of everyone.

A healer burst into the infirmary, questioning what happened. Musa told them, and they began their work immediately with a brusque, “Everyone out!”

Quick as lightning, Musa darted forward once more, her hand brushing his hair away as her lips pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be just outside, I promise,” she whispered to him.

She waited until the infirmary door closed behind her to collapse to the ground, her entire body wracked with sobs.

[yutamayo]

*blocks number*

[toffeelemon]

sapphic wilmon fics as sapphic songs🩷🧡🤍

this is a (play)list of some of my favourite genderbent au wilmon fics as sapphic songs to celebrate the wilmon tag on ao3 hitting 5k works!

I won't treat you like you're oh so typical by saynomore @saynomorefic [T, 9k, 1/2]

non-royal AU. rare butch wille/femme simon! delicious sexuality realisation friends to lovers

I'd be home with you by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight @aro-of-artemis [E, 6k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe fluffy established relationship valentine's date.

Comes on the common tongue of your loving me by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight @aro-of-artemis [E, 1k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. simon being a teasing lil shit

Santa Claus won't make me happy (but you will) by MarvellKya17 @i-love-semicolons [E, 3k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. christmas themed, semi-public sex with toys

The altar is my hips by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight @aro-of-artemis [E, 1k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. new year's eve themed and excellent lesbian sacrilege as usual

Bubblegum by stealthy_chameleon @stealthy-chameleon [E, 2k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon cute mutual pining to smut speed run

the taste of lace and you by willesworld @willesworld [E, 3k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. wille in lingerie.

Look at me when you're alone by Gwendolyn @shouldntbearevolution [E, 3k, 1/1]

dom she/they simon giving wille a lap dance... yeah

Something Bittersweet by embracedthevoid @embracedthevoid [E, 9k, 2/2]

a series of 2 fics. non-royal AU. enemies to lovers. hate sex. still pretending to be enemies hehe. public sex.

good friends by phnelt @phneltwrites [E,4k, 1/1]

established wilmon and (straight friend) felice threesome. trust me sksk.

[morganandtheemorgana]

I put some thought about for a while but I do like the idea on Tiffany being demisexual/demiromantic coded in the franchise given it was subtle but had vibes to it especially her famous line. I’m more sad that show kinda erased it for nothing with her being an over the top ham🥲

[ordinary-barbie]

celebrating your birthday with jean!

summary: you're spending your birthday with jean for the first time and he wants to make it special ♥︎

tags: fem!reader, l-bombs, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, lots of sappiness

an extremely self-indulgent set of headcanons since it's my birthday lol.

jean's favorite holiday is christmas, but this year, he's honestly more excited for your birthday. it's the first birthday you're spending together as a couple and he's determined to make it amazing.

he will spoil the FUCK out of you! he encourages you to come up with a list of things you want. and he will get them all, despite you assuring him that he really doesn't have to.

you make one joke about birthday sex and the wheels in his horny brain start turning. he wakes you up on your special day with kisses and then immediately begs to eat you out.

he swears that your pussy tastes especially sweet today because it's your birthday. you can't even tell him off for being a cornball because you're rendered speechless by him giving you the best head you've had in your life??

this man is always good with his tongue and his fingers but he's clearly pampering you extra today. he ends up making you cum multiple times and refuses your offers to return the favor because "it's your special day, babe."

he's amazing. i want him bad.

jean loves to cook and insists on making breakfast in bed for you on your birthday. he makes pancakes for you, using a special recipe that his mom passed down to him. blends you a delicious smoothie with your favorite fruits. he joins you in bed and the two of you eat together and cuddle :)

if you love surprises and parties, he will pull out all the stops to throw you a bomb-ass party and invite all your friends. he'll dupe you into believing you're having a quiet dinner at home, but as soon as you come through the door, you're greeted by a bunch of your favorite people. jean beams with pride and positively melts at how overjoyed you are by the surprise.

but maybe that's not your thing and you want to do something more low-key. he's totally down for that too. he will be in the kitchen for hours making you a feast while you go out shopping or grab lunch with some friends. of course it's the best meal you've had in your life, and of course this dork (affectionate) lights candles and puts on a jazz playlist on Spotify for you.

y'all sway in time to the music after dinner + dessert. it's disgustingly cute.

could also see him taking you out for dinner and inviting a few of your closest friends to celebrate. takes zillions of photos to capture the moment and refuses to let you pay for anything. your friends tease him for being such a simp but he doesn't care. he's proud to be such a sap for you.

once the festivities are done, he wants to end the night by making you feel good. it's not just sex, it's making love. he goes slow and soft, making sure to worship every inch of your body and savor the moment.

he's got his head buried in the side of your neck, peppering you with kisses and "I love you"s as he thrusts in and out of your wet cunt. it feels so so so good, and before you know it, you're cumming all over his cock, feeling totally blissed out

he insists on making you cum one more time because he's nothing if not a gentleman. when he asks where you want him, you beg him to come inside. he happily gives you his warm, sticky load, moaning as he watches his cum drip out of your pussy.

he wipes you off with a warm rag afterwards and makes sure you drink water and go pee before helping you into your coziest pair of pajamas. an aftercare king.

as the two of you cuddle in bed, preparing to drift off to sleep, he shyly asks, "So did you have a good birthday? I hope it was everything you could've wanted and more." you nearly burst into tears over how utterly sweet and caring your boyfriend is.

you assure him that today was perfect simply because you got to spend it with him, and his heart absolutely swells with adoration for you. ♥︎

[barnesafterglow]

first burn

summary: your crush on peter may burn you alive

pairing: mcu!peter parker x avenger!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: not canon compliant (no snap, everyone is happy and healthy and no one did anything stupid), peter is of age and well within his rights to fuck!!, a little tropey for a second (brief "fake dating" and "only one bed" to move the story along), smut [unprotected sex, pull out method oral (f receiving), just some sweet love making dude], listen i'm here for a good time not a long time

a/n: two fics in a year?? who is she

main masterlist - i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary for updates!

Peter Parker was going to be the death of you.

With each grunt that echoed through the gym in Avengers Tower, your eyes flicked to his sweaty form. The goddamned death of you.

You tried to backtrack, to see when these feelings first started as a small burning in the back of your mind that had turned into a raging wildfire every time you were in his presence. It had to have been the mission in London.

It was normal - or as normal as any Avengers mission could be. 

You had just stumbled through the throes of midtown London, hand in hand with your boyfriend, looking with every bit of wonder like neither of you had ever seen the delights it had to offer.

Then, as soon as you stepped through the hotel door, Peter dropped your hand as if it had burned him the whole time. 

Maybe it started then, with that glimmer of disappointment. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend and he would never take the time to take you around tourist London like he had just done. 

And then that pit in your stomach grew as the door to your room opened: only one bed. Jesus Christ, Tony. 

“I know,” came the response from beside you; you must have spoken out loud. “It’ll be fine.”

Those were the last words he spoke for a long while, as you both got ready for bed, then slid in beside each other. The tension was palpable, and you didn’t know if it was your slowly mounting feelings or the clench of his discomfort, but regardless you slept fitfully for hours until you finally stumbled into a deep sleep.

You woke up to a strong pair of arms wrapped around your middle - somehow pressed there in the dark of the night - and the world spun around you as you shot up.

Peter was alert in seconds, standing by the bed assessing for a threat, when his eyes met yours - utterly confused and you had no real answer for him.

“Bad dream,” you mumbled as you headed to the bathroom, the door clicking with a sort of finality behind you.

And it was fine, really it was. You definitely didn’t think about the way press of his body against yours and how sexy his bed head had looked. Nope. Not at all. 

And you definitely didn’t imagine what he would have looked like if you were the one who made him sweaty and flushed like he was right now.

Snapping out of your borderline impure thoughts, you stood from your spot on the ground where you had been warming up and - before your mouth said something you could regret - you walked out of the gym.

With your back turned, you missed the way Peter’s eyes followed you the whole way.

-

Saturday nights were girl’s nights, as Wanda so boldly claimed. And girl’s night came with a lot of complaining.

Throwing the shot back, you groaned, not even wanting to voice your thoughts aloud.

“I shouldn’t even think about it,” you said. “He’s practically a kid.”

“Not to impede on your self-loathing, but he’s not a kid anymore babe,” was Natasha’s response. She nodded across the bar where Peter was sipping his beer, laughing at something Sam had said. Right, he was 22 and totally within your age range, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still see him as the 16 year old kid who had fought by Tony’s side. “Plus you’re not that much older than him. We used to call you a kid too, you know.”

Dragging your hand down your face, you stood from the table to order another drink, ignoring Nat and Wanda’s laughter at your misery.

As you leaned against the bar waiting, Peter dropped down into the stool beside you.

“Alright, what did I do to you?” His words were casual, joking, but you could hear the hurt laced within. That was never your intention, and your heart sank.

You and Peter had been friends for a long time, since Tony had first brought him in after the air had cleared with him and Cap. You bonded over being the youngest Avengers and what that meant for your lives. The two of you understood each other on another level that no one else truly did. And here you were, ruining everything over a little crush.

“Nothing, Pete.” You ruffled your hand through his hair and his face lit up in a blush that he tried to hide behind his beer bottle. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad, I guess,” he replied, then looked down at you - when had he gotten so tall - with an unreadable emotion on his face. “I miss you.”

Right. And you were back where you started. Admittedly, you had avoided him for the most part since that London mission, only saying hi in passing and at the occasional movie night or debrief. You weren’t exactly proud of it, but you didn’t know what else to do.

“I miss you too,” you whispered, shame coating your words. You never meant to hurt him - honestly, you didn’t. “Listen, kid, I just-“

“Don’t call me kid.” And the anger in his words surprised you. “I’m not that kid you met six years ago - when you were barely any older, might I remind you - and you know that. I know you know that. So don’t use that as an excuse to stop whatever is going on here.” His hands gestured between the two of you. 

Strong, capable hands that you had seen hurt and save, had seen run through his hair, had seen play video games. Hands that you had imagined for weeks now. Hands that you couldn’t help but grab out of mid air, clasping one in your own. 

“And what’s going on here, Peter?”

He leaned in close, breath hot on your ear. 

“I see the way you look at me.” Your breath hitched, then stopped altogether. “But I don’t think you see me looking right back.”

Body all of a sudden hot and raging with emotion, you squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. 

“Take me home.”

-

Your apartment was closer, so you walked the handful of blocks from the bar in tangible silence. Every brush of fingers was an electric jolt through your body and every bump of shoulders sent heat through your core. By the time you reached your front door, the tension was pulled so tight it was bound to snap at any moment.

And snap it did.

As soon as you had the apartment door closed behind you, Peter was on you, his hands everywhere all at once. He crowded you, pulling you close to him when you winced at the door knob digging into your side. One hand came to rest on your hip, rubbing soothing circles there, while the other cradled your face, eyes searching for permission.

You didn’t know what you were giving him permission for, but you nodded anyway.

The world around you stopped as Peter placed a searing kiss to your lips, stealing the breath from your lungs. The hand on your face moved to gently tug your hair and he took your gasp as an invitation to explore your mouth. God the boy knew how to kiss.

His tongue pressed into you, tasting every inch while your hands roamed his body. When he pulled away - not for air, not to leave you, but to place hot kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of burning fire in their wake - you tugged on his t-shirt in a silent plea for him to take it off.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him without a shirt before. Between missions and training and plain old gym sessions, you were thankfully no stranger to a shirtless Peter Parker. But in the dim light of your living room, with those brown eyes boring into your own, everything was suddenly different.

You just stared - for far longer than necessary, you were sure - until he took a step back towards you, his fingers intertwining with your own. Nodding at him, you started to lead him towards your bedroom, not making it more than two steps until his hands were once again exploring your body.

When you finally made it - a trail of both of your clothes left in your wake - your breaths were heavy and panting, aching for more of him.

He stood there for a moment just looking at you, taking in the red lace of your bra and underwear. Unable to contain himself, he ripped it off of you in two quick pulls, leaving you bare before him.

You expected him to jump on you the second you were naked. Instead he pressed his front against your own - you gasped at the contact of your nipples against his bare chest - and lightly traced shapes over your exposed back, moving down to trail along your legs, then back up your arms. Everywhere he touched burned the memory into your skin.

Finally, finally, he gently pushed you against your bed, your back hitting the mattress with a soft bounce, and he peeled off his jeans and underwear before manhandling you towards the center, moving your body as if you weighed nothing.

You truly didn’t need any foreplay, the tension on your own end built up these last few weeks on top of Peter’s heated discovery of your body made for an easy transition, but he wasn’t about to let that happen.

No, Peter Parker was a fucking tease.

He started by kneading the soft skin of your breasts, touch light and gentle as if you were something precious. Even when he leaned down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, he still only gave you quick nips, nothing as satisfying as you needed. He made his way down your body, placing lover’s kisses everywhere he could reach, before finally settling down on his stomach between your legs.

You thought that this was surely the moment you would get some reprieve, some kind of real touch that may or may not send you over the edge, but no. He wasn’t done with you yet.

He kissed the inside of each thigh, alternating until he was breathing right where you needed him most. When you thought you were about to explode, he finally lowered his mouth to your core.

The feeling after so long of teasing was euphoric, and you swear if you were a weaker woman you could have come from the first swipe of his tongue against your clit. You held out as his tongue made its way in circles and figure eights, then he pressed a finger against your entrance, eyes looking up through dark lashes to silently ask permission.

Once you had given it, he sank a finger into you, pumping it a few times before adding another. With that, both his hand and mouth picked up speed until you were grinding on his face, chasing your orgasm.

You were on the edge, ready to jump off, when he pulled back. You whined at the loss of contact and tried to sit up, but one large hand pushed you back against the bed, the other starting its assault all over again.

This time, he didn’t stop until you were coming all over his face, and you think you blacked out for a second because the next thing you knew he was over top of you, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before kissing you, driving his tongue in and swallowing down your moans.

He ground his hips against you, his cock sliding easily through your folds, and you both whined as his tip caught at your entrance. He continued his movements, getting closer and closer to fucking you with every pass, but never quite committing.

Sick of his teasing, you pushed hard on his shoulders and, in his surprise, were able to flip him so he was on his back.

“Stop teasing, Peter,” you whispered in his ear as you straddled his waist. “I need you.”

You pulled back, eyes searching his, before he nodded and wrapped his hands around your hips. Taking that as permission, you grabbed his cock, lining it up and slowly sliding down.

He was big, much bigger than you had anticipated, and you had to take your time before he was fully seated inside you. Once your hips were flush together, you took a breath, practically feeling him in your throat. 

He looked up at you - almost adoringly - as you adjusted to him. You leaned down, pressing your chest against his, and kissed him gently, pouring every ounce of emotion you possibly could into it before starting to move your hips. Now more adjusted, the burn of the stretch turned into a pleasure that had you melting against him and hands guided your hips to move you along his length.

For long minutes you let him move you as he wanted, content to hang on for the ride. You didn’t expect for Peter to flip you over and start pounding into you.

“Fuck,” you gasped out as he settled your legs over your shoulders. “So fucking deep.”

All you could do is hold onto him as he fucked you, alternating between hard thrusts and slow grinds until you were dizzy with pleasure, chasing an orgasm that wasn’t going to come unless Peter damn well wanted it to.

And when he did, when he reached down and rubbed harsh circles into your clit, you exploded around him. The clench of your heat around his cock spurred his own orgasm, and he pulled out at the last second, his come coating your stomach and tits.

That on is own was hot enough, but Peter fucking Parker did not come to play. He swiped two fingers through his own release before pressing them to your mouth. You opened up for him, cleaning off his fingers as he groaned, and you could see his cock give an interested twitch, like it was already trying to go for round two.

The weight of his body disappeared from yours and you whined, reaching out for him even with your eyes closed. He quickly returned with a warm rag and cleaned you up before maneuvering you both under the covers. 

Regaining a semblance of strength, you turned so that you were facing him, suddenly very aware of each of your nakedness.

“What now?” Your voice was hoarse-sounding, it’s only use in the last bit from moans and gasps.

“Well,” he started, once again tracing shapes along your bare skin, “I think we maybe skipped a step in the middle of all this.”

“What do you mean?” If he was going to say what you thought he might, your heart would implode.

“I mean, I’ve liked you for a really long time, longer than I’m going to admit, and I took this chance because I didn’t know if I would ever get it again. But if I’m right - and I think I am - then you feel the same way I do. So, I want to take you on a proper date. I want to make this work.”

His confession made your heart stutter-step and you couldn’t even find the words to tell him yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Instead, you pulled him in for a soft kiss, hoping every emotion he had just poured out to you was matched in the press of your lips against his.

“I’m taking that as a yes, then.”

“Yeah, Pete, it is.”

[theragethatisdesire]

hello!! 🥰 could i please get #359??

i literally do not care who it's with, i trust you to give us a tasty meal 😫 go nuts bb

hiiiii tiff <3 so i'm gonna modify this one a bit to be more in line with my personal writing style but like....why is this screaming gojo to me...and to think i'm so afraid of writing him but i think it's unavoidable here ...

359. "So desperate for it, aren't you? If you want it so bad, you'd better take it then."

nsfw under the cut per usual

-

Gojo Satoru is the Strongest.

This is a sometimes annoying, sometimes relieving, always indisputable fact, one which he never tires of reminding you. Usually when he says it, it's in reference to curses or cursed energy. On occasion, he's referencing a drunken arm-wrestling competition or a punching-bag-machine you stumbled across in a bar that he couldn't resist winning just for the hell of it, he's an asshole like that.

When you're the girlfriend of the Strongest, it's easy to feel lesser than. Sharing a bed and a goodnight kiss every night with the closest human equivalent to a god can be taxing on the insecure little part of your brain.

Satoru does what he can to alleviate the toll his teasing and status take on you, from showering you with compliments to being as much of a sweetheart as he is a menace (and that's saying something). But when you're behind the closed doors of your bedroom, spread out before him and panting, Satoru loves to remind just how unequal the playing ground you're both on is.

"So messy," Satoru hums, dragging two long fingers through the slick folds between your legs. He loves having you like this, bare before him with your legs spread while he stays fully clothed, chastising you.

"Satoru," you beg, canting your hips up towards him, seeking the touch that he's suddenly become so stingy with.

"Watch it," Satoru snaps, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses, "thought you were going to be good, what happened to that?"

"I-I'm tryin'," you whimper, curling in on yourself in the face of his disdain. Satoru loves when you misbehave, you know that realistically, but here, in the heat of the moment, the threat of his ever-creative punishments has you squirming.

"Could have fooled me," Satoru says with a disappointed tut, pulling you to your feet and sitting on the edge of the bed. You stand between his legs, watching him curiously, until he pats his thigh, a criminally smooth smile gracing his face.

"Sit?" You go to sit across his legs, but Satoru all but shoves you back to your feet, frowning.

"Sit," Satoru says with a note of implication, gesturing to his muscled thigh again. You catch his meaning, frowning.

"But your pants-"

"But nothing. If you want it so bad, you'd better take it while you have the chance. You know how moody I can be," Satoru lowers his glasses to smirk at you, menacing and cruel.

You straddle his thigh without another thought, the threat behind his words ringing in your ear. The friction from the rough fabric of his slacks is an instant relief against your pulsing core; you shudder as soon as your hot, sticky cunt makes contact with the cool cloth. You tentatively roll your hips once, twice, a broken moan falling out of you.

"There you go," Satoru says, saccharinely sweet, "that better?"

"A- a little," you admit, eyes rolling back in your head as you begin to grind down onto him harder, already having been teased to the point of breaking.

It's shameful, really, how wantonly you moan for him, how quickly you manage to stain his pants, how harshly your fingernails are digging into his shoulders. Satoru watches you, the faintest hint of amusement on his face, and if you were just a tad less fucked out, you would consider smacking him.

But not now, no. Not when you're so close to the release you've been aching for for the last hour, not when your thighs are beginning to shake with the effort of getting yourself off, not when Satoru lands a harsh hand on your hip, dragging you against him harder.

"Sa-Satoru!" you gasp, choking on the syllables of his name, "please, please-"

"So desperate for it, aren't you?" Satoru chuckles, pinching your cheek. "I've barely even touched you pet, how are you this needy already?"

"P-please, I just- so close," you whine, recognizing all too well the chiding tone, the easy cockiness that suits him so well. He's already made himself busy edging you all night, surely he won't-

"Aw," Satoru pouts at your cry of frustration, "something wrong?"

You fruitlessly roll your hips against the cold, unyielding barrier of Satoru's infinity, unreal and unsatisfying beneath your needy cunt. You glare at him through hooded eyes, chest still heaving.

"You're so-"

"Mean? Is that really what you want to call me right now?" The amused sparkle behind Satoru's glasses glimmers out into a look of cold cruelty.

"No, I-"

"Think I'm not going to make you cum?" Satoru tosses you off onto your back, hovering over you with something dangerous and dark playing on his face. "What, are you going to tell me I can't play with my little pet anymore? Can't take it?"

"No," you feel your bottom lip tremble.

"Am I too much for you? If you can't take my games, baby, I don't know how you're going to take everything else I want to give you."

"No, I can- I can take it," you grab at his shirt desperately, eyes shining, "I need it- please, Satoru."

"Sh sh sh," Satoru shushes you, pinching at your cheek, "pathetic little thing, aren't you? So needy for me."

"Mhm," you hum, canting your hips up towards the thigh he slots between your legs, "I just need you, please, Satoru-"

"That's right," Satoru smiles down at you, a tender thumb rubbing over your lips, "just me, right? I'm the only one that can get you this fucked out."

"Just you," you whimper pitifully, trying to roll your hips up into him to no avail.

"That's what I like to hear," Satoru hisses, the first break in his composure all night, "all for me."

[veveisveryuncool]

starving artist episode was a banger i need 20 more

kirbytober day 20: castle/fav episode

[smileysvech]

a cozy day off at home with lukáš dostál

when dosty just needs to spend a day relaxing at home taking a bath and cuddling on the couch with you after carrying his entire team on his back 🥺🤧

tagging: @pyotrkochetkov @lifeofpriya @comphy-and-cozy @tinyhockey @titobeauvi @lam-ila @2manytabsopen