#also fuck my anatomy today in particular

[uh-e-rinnie]

no thoughts, head empty, only @korruptbrekker 's catboy! virgil sits in the silence of my brain

yknow

like

nya

#rinart #sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts sides #ts virgil #catboy!virgil #cat boy virge brainrot #also fuck my anatomy today in particular #this was a warm up though so

[tswhiisftteedr]

Wings ☆ Drabble/Really Short One Shot

☆ Adam x Wingless Angel!Fem!Reader :

They were just so pretty, you couldn’t help but touch your boyfriend’s beautiful golden wings. And hey, what was the worst that could happen’ probably nothing too bad, right?

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise & Degradation, Adam is a bit condescending and forceful, but hey, it’s Adam we’re talking about. Oral Sex(Female Receiving), Penetrative Sex, First Time As A Couple. NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: 2330

Ask: Hi! ^^ Omg I saw that your requests are open!! I have one for Adam from Hazbin Hotel. I have a headcanon that his wings are very very sensitive and when you touch them it drives him crazy. Could you please do a Nsfw/ smut headcanon, or scenario with him and his female S/O just hanging out, him eating and she gets curious and touches softly them (not knowing what the affect it)? I hope you have a beautiful day!

Note: Of course!! And thank you, hope you also have a beautiful day/night!! Thanks for the request, right now I’m going to work on my others lol. Hope you like what I wrote!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Ever since your ascent to Heaven post-mortem, a sense of exclusion lingered in your heart. Unlike most heavenly beings with wings, you were one of the few soul that lack that part of the brand new heavenly anatomy. While everyone in Heaven remained kind and courteous, the infrastructure, were obvious designed for winged inhabitants. That posed you quite the challenges, especially when you where in need of transportation— the lack of automobiles was your greatest nemesis in the afterlife, as everyone effortlessly soared using their wings they didn’t need them.

Despite a subtle feeling of inferiority, your fascination with wings endured. Their majestic allure captivated you, and the desire to experience the softness of the beautiful contraptions persisted. ‘You just had to feel them!’

And you were determined to do so today, as you had received an invitation from Adam to come over.

Currently, you find yourself enjoying takeout on the expansive balcony of his penthouse. It was nice scenery, a comfy outdoor couch with a coffee table full of food.

As he rambled about his day, you nodded along, your attention solely fixed on the captivating golden wings adorning his sides and back. Sneakily inching closer to him, captivated by their beauty. “—Anyways that chick had a huge rack,” He pauses to take a bite of his burger, “So I guessed even Karen ass bitches can be hot.” he finishes with gulp.

Then you finally had a hold of them, ‘his marvellous wings!’ You were engrossed at their exquisite softness, surpassing any feathers from animals you had ever touched. Lost in the delicate material for about a solid five minutes, it had than dawned on you that Adam had stopped talking. Looking back up at him, you notice he had dropped his burger on the table. Then when you glanced at his face, you noted that he looked ‘different’, if you had to describe it, his face almost looked feverish.

In a blink, you were flipped onto your back and hit the couch cushions, then one of Adam's hands pinned both of your hands above your head.

“Fuuuck, babe! You don't need to get so handsy just because your jealous, you could've just fucking said so instead of acting a little tease, feelin’ me up and all.” He informs you while staring down at your perplexed expression, because, while Adam talked dirty in general, you had  no idea  what  you had done to be a tease in this particular  situation.

While that question spun in your head, Adam moved closer to your ear, his words jolting you out of your thoughts.

“if you were feeling needy, you just had to speak up. You know I would never leave my girl hanging, especially if getting her little brains fuck out is what she wants.” His voice low, full of desire and malice. He then playfully nip at your ear, ‘now who was the tease again?’

“Wait what— Um, Adam, where is all this coming from?!” You speak up, clearly nervous as a result of your boyfriend's statements and how close your bodies were together.

“The fuck you mean? You started this shit.” He begins, slowly sliding his free hand up your thigh. “Getting in my personal space, touching my wings to get me riled up, are you really gonna play the clueless card now you slutty little thing.” His hand now reaching under you shirt. “Think you can mess with me and just act like nothing happened, huh?” He says as he fondles with one of your breast.

“What do mean get you riled up, I barely touch you!?” You speak out anxiously; this was going far beyond anything you had done before. You two would kiss passionately at most, never doing anything remotely close to, 'well this!' It was strange; he almost acted like he did when he was mad, but this was somewhat different.

"Bold lie for an angel, like you wouldn't know— Oh, riiiight, you don't have wings." It had now dawned on him that you were utterly clueless of the affects the soft petting you gave to his wings had on him, and how depraved it made him feel.

"Yeah. I am not sure what I did to you when I touched your wings, but let me make one thing clear: it was unintentional. Seriously, they seemed soft, and I wanted to know how nice they were to the touch. So I'm sorry for making you mad; I should have asked before touching them.” You explain.

"Aww babes, don't worry, you didn't make me mad, and I'll tot's forgive you,"

You briefly relax as he speaks, well that is, until he opens his mouth again.

"Yeah I'll definitely forgive you if take care of my raging hard on for me'." He emphasised his words by grinding himself against you, making you feel his erection, and oh boy! Was he big; his self-appointed title of 'dickmaster' didn't seem so baseless anymore.

Your heart races faster as you feel a wave of panic wash over you. Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel anxious about the situation. It was a big milestone to you, ‘the first time the two of you would have intercourse’.

You squirmed slightly, attempting to break free from his hold due to nerves but soon realize it was futile with him pinning your hands above your head. "I... I'm not sure that—," you started to say, but before you could finish, he cut you off.

"Shut up and enjoy the ride, babes." He growled softly, taking advantage of your momentary hesitation to quickly roughly kiss your lips. His tongue thrusts aggressively into your mouth, demanding entry while his other hand continues cupping your breast, squeezing and groping roughly. His erection presses harder against your thigh, digging into your sensitive flesh.

Despite your initial protests and confusion, you can't deny the familiar thrill coursing through your veins. You knew better, yet you still arch into his touch, moaning softly against his rough treatment.

As a warning to quit your shifting around, Adam's grip tightens around your wrists, almost painfully so, causing you to whimper in discomfort mixed with arousal.

And when he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing is heavy and labored.

"You like it, don't you?" He asked, his voice low with desire. His hips rock back and forth, grinding against you harder, making sure you felt every inch of his member. "Admit it, Y/N."

"A-adam, please... I—," you pleaded while being out of breath, but your words were cut off by another deep kiss. His tongue forced its way past your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily yet his hand didn't stop its manhandling of your chest. Meanwhile, his cock throbbed painfully against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your clothes.

The sensation was too much for you to handle; despite your original nervousness, the thoughts of messing up or not being enough had dissipated, and you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him anymore. You wanted him and he was totally into you.

Plus your body responded to his touch in ways you didn’t expect it to, it was incredibly in tune with his wants. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he continued his assault on both your body and mind.

Suddenly, Adam pulled away, his breathing heavy and short. "Good girl," he praised, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Now, spread those legs for me."

While being aroused, you still reluctantly spread your legs wide apart, letting him take off your shorts and exposing your wet panties. "Please, Adam," you whimpered, unable to resist his advances any longer.

With a growl of lust, he ripped off your remaining clothes, revealing your naked body to him. His eyes devoured every inch of you—your stomach, to your hips and obviously your beautiful pussy. Without further ado, he leaned forward, his mouth descending upon your navel, tracing slow, hot lines with his tongue before moving lower still. "Mmmm, you smell so fucking good toots," he murmured against your sensitive flesh.

His hands trailed downwards too, cupping your thighs in his palms, squeezing and kneading them. Soon switching to one free hand and one holding down your legs, inching his face to your then and lapping at your heat.

“Adam, what in the heavens are you doing!?"

“Uh, trying to eating you out, pretty obvious babes”

"Yeah, I get that, but like, why?? You always complain about 'bitches being annoying for demanding you go down on them.' when you mentioned passed relationships"

"Oh yeah, I did say that lmao. Honestly, I just feel like it. You look so pathetically adorable; I couldn’t help myself."

“Did— did you just lmao out loud?”

“Do you want me to stop eating you out with all your interruptions.” He threatens.

"No! I mean, I'm alright. Please continue."

"That’s what I thought too, babes," he grinned around your wet folds, sucking and licking at your sensitive spots. His tongue traced along your cunt, flicking against your clit before returning to tease your entrance again.

You moaned softly, your hands grasping tightly onto Adam's horns as he continued to pleasure you. You arched into him, letting out a soft whimper when his long tongue brushed against your G-spot. "Mmmhmmm... More please..." you managed to mutter between heavy breaths.

He chuckled lightly against your sensitive flesh before pulling away slightly. "Alright, alright." With renewed vigor, he returned to his task with even more enthusiasm, sucking harder and faster on your clit while his fingers teased her opening. He could feel your wetness increasing rapidly, seeping down onto his hand.

Your body trembled and shook in response to the intense sensations assaulting every inch of your being; you were close now—very close. Your breathing became increasingly shallow as she fought the impending orgasm building up inside of her. Then finally you reached sweet climax.

Adam momentarily let go of you to undress himself, now cock in hand."Tell me you want it," he demanded between kisses to neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"I... I do," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible above your heavy breathing.

"That's my girl," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Without warning, he thrust his cock deep inside you, filling you completely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as the unfamiliar yet familiar feeling washed over you. His thrusts were fast and hard, pounding into you relentlessly. Each powerful stroke brought forth a moan from your throat, mixing with his growls of pleasure.

Your body adjusted quickly to his size, accommodating him easily despite initial discomfort. You arched your back against him, meeting his rhythmic thrusts. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—it hurt, but in the best possible way. Your chest bounced with each powerful thrust.

As Adam continued to ravish you, his fingers found their way between your legs, rubbing and massaging your sensitive folds. He teased and tormented your clit mercilessly, causing waves of intense pleasure to ripple through your core. After staring at your lower half for a minute, “I should totally get my name tatted on you, like a crotch tattoo or some shit.” he tells you in his usual goofy tone, yet the look behind his eyes seem to say that he wasn’t completely joking. You on the other could only cry out his name between ragged breaths, begging for more.

“That's it, you filthy little whore," he murmured between labored breaths. "Tell me how much you love this, slut." His pace picked up even more, slamming into you harder and faster than before. Your moans echoed around the room as he relentlessly claimed your body.

In response to his demand, you managed to choke out, "I... I love it!" Your voice cracking with desire, filled with honesty despite yourself.

"Good girl." He growled, picking up speed. His hips slammed against yours in a brutal rhythm that left you gasping for air. His fingers continued their relentless assault on your sensitive spots, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. As a reflex you grabbed at his back, well in this case, his wings.

And that action fucked with him so bad. So Adam bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark that would later turn into a pretty obvious hickey. Blood trickled down your skin, but it only served to heighten your arousal. "Cum for me, babe," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust. "Let go, don’t think too hard about it"

You were close, so close to the brink of orgasm. The constant barrage of stimulation was too much for your body to handle, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "A-Adam... I'm..."

"That's it, baby," he encouraged you, his words thick with desire. He increased the pace even more, pounding into you relentlessly.

With a loud cry, you release around him, your pussy contracting tightly around his cock as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. Your entire body shook with the force of your climax, and sweat trickled down your body, mixing with his saliva and cum.

Adam groaned in satisfaction, following suit moments later, filling you up with his hot seed. Panting heavily, he lifted his head to stare into your eyes, his gaze filled with lust and satisfaction. "That was fucking amazing, shit, that’s why your my fav."

After momentarily going inside to get cleaned up, you had returned to the balcony.

“Shit my burger is cold!” Adam bitches.

“Well what did you expect it was left on a table while being outdoors— Oh, shit, did someone-?” You begin, than the realization of the what just happened hits Locke a truck.

“-Hear us? Yeah most likely, but doesn’t really matter, they won’t do shit about it, well probably.” He says followed by a laugh.

Sometimes you wondered why you were dating someone so irresponsible, but after today, you did have another bullet point to add to your pros list. ‘The dick was good’

Thanks @starlightfire97 for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

You can now commission me!

Tag list for Adam: @sunflower-lilly @moonbloom226

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

#tswhiisftteedr #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #adam x you #adam x reader #adam smut #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam

[dolly-macabre]

I can see your art is showing CRAZY improvement recently, how THE FUCK did you do that /positive (ir0n-moon)

First of all, thank you so much! ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ

Second I'm sorry this is so long but this was such a struggle to get where I am today.

I think the first struggle I had with getting back into drawing was that its okay to take your time. I tended to rush all the old pieces I made which led to... Scrunkily results.

My next obstacle was finding a proper drawing program that worked for my needs.

I started with Sketchbook but it kept force closing the app on my tablet and a couple times it almost cost me a couple drawings. There was one bad instance in particular that had me sobbing HEAVILY. After that I did more research and found Clip Studio Paint. At first it was very frustrating getting used to the format but now I LOVE THIS FUCKING PROGRAM.

ANATOMY IS MY BIGGEST STRUGGLE DON'T BE FOOLED. I have a friend in the mtl fandom who went to art school who assured me,

THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH TRACING.

As long as you aren't stealing someone elses work!!! (Obviously) & as long as you really end up making the piece your own that's all that matters. (It took me so long to come to terms with this. I had been shamed in hs for tracing to start my art to a shitty extent) If you're like me and your anatomy is attrotious, you need the practice that can come with tracing anatomy and edit it to where it needs to be!

Finally, after all those obstacles, all I needed to do was make sure I was drawing as often as I could. Practice practice practice. My main struggle right now is still anatomy but I'm getting there. But also trying not to be a perfectionist. (I am my own worst enemy about this)

Also y'know, I just take Vyvanse daily so that is very helpful for motivation!

Tl;Dr: just keep fucking pushing and pushing to do better every time and reap the benefits!

#long post #ask #talking.dolly #artist notes #my art journey

[hopefulcanary]

Do you have any drawing tips for semi-beginners hoping to improve drawing people? 🙏

Draw at least once a day, even if you don't feel like it. Artistic skill is 5% raw talent and 95% stubborn af bull-headed "fuck you I'm mad that I can't draw a 3/4 head so I am gonna draw it a hundred times until I get it right"

Do drawing warmups– straight lines from the shoulder, spirals and circles and cubes, things that get your muscles, well, warmed up. Even if this is all you can draw that day, you're still gaining fine motor control.

Copy from old school masters. I literally, 100% do mean "sit your butt down and freehand a copy of whatever famous painting/sculpture/piece you're gaga for". Critically analyze how these artists drew the human form. Why do you enjoy these artists' works? What would you like to learn from them? I'm not a great colorist, so I enjoy studying how other artists utilize light and color.

Listen to Jack Kirby's advice:

Use references. All the time. Every damn day. Download stock photos that look cool and try drawing them. Take photos of yourself, your friends and fam and draw them. Feel weird because smug little assholes cry that "that's cheating", or folks make fancy jpgs of how you have to change a certain percent of the pose/hair/face/the way the shirt is flowing on your friend's body because exact life-drawing studies are "copying" now??? References are how artists work successfully and grow as artists. So you know, fuck them.

"Stock photo [person] [action]" is a life saver for finding poses to practice on

Use grids if you need to. Our predecessors did. Hell, they used crazy things like the camera obscura to make the perspective of their paintings correct. Programs like Procreate literally have grid guides to help.

Just completely stuck on a body part and frustrated that you can't get it to look right? Trace it. You have my permission. Trace it to get the form right, then try free-handing it again. You'll probably nail it. MAGIC. This is not "cheating".

(Don't trace stuff and pass it off as yours/use it for final pieces* unless your style is literally rotoscoping, a perfectly valid art form. Like, know your work and take pride in it.)

Related to that, don't feel married to a particular "style". Learn the basic foundations, then Experiment. Do those "draw my character in [X] style" memes. Flexibility will help you be kinder to yourself. Push your limits.

Redraw old work, so you can see how much you've improved.

Everything about a person can be broken down into basic shapes. Don't feel like you have to draw all the body contours perfectly the first time, and don't feel married to your first drafts. Revise, revise, revise.

Be kind to yourself. Seriously. Allow yourself to be patient with yourself. Adults in particular are so hard on themselves when it comes to drawing, when we don't need to be.

*On the topic of tracing:

Want to know where you CAN trace all the live long day? Your own work. "What?" Yes. Good god, yes. Light boxes exist in meat space for a reason! Layers in digital programs exist for a reason! So you doodled two different pics of Bucky Barnes and you love his face on one but hate it on another? C&P that sucker over or draw off that. Make a new layer above the mess. Finesse the Winter Soldier into complying cuz he's an obedient boy. It's your vision, go HAM.

On the subject of "Originality":

Andrew Loomis' Figure Drawing For All It's Worth is a solid read that goes into the specifics of how to draw people, going into anatomy and breaking down bodies and faces into shapes and lines. Part of my improvement came when I stopped stressing out about the whole image (at least at first) and took things section by section.

It might seem a little dense and intimidating at first, but it's so much better than a lot of the "how to draw" stuff on the market today.

This is also dense af but I hope it helps!

#my art #art asks #text post

[damienthepious]

ksldjfjks not letting myself get behind on these again HERE is the CHAPTER enJOY

The Beast In On His Chain (chapter 10)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ao3] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla, Sir Absolon

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, prisoner/guard dynamic, Dehumanization, (which feels like a weird word to use for a nonhuman person bUT. it’s what i got.), Despair, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (EVENTUALLY!!!! it’ll take a while), Captivity, Suicidal Thoughts, (that will be a theme throughout. inescapable in this particular fic. alas.), Eventual Romance, (Yes the dynamics in this one are fucked. honestly i’m kinda Stretching my limits these days.), (having fun with it. fucking around. it’s fine.), Recovery, (eventually), Self-Reclamation

Chapter Summary: Softness, and sharpness.

Chapter Notes: the last chapter came out short and this one DID NOT. CHAPTER WARNINGS for starvation (again), suicidal thoughts (again), something that is comparable to a suicide attempt, blood, violence, threats of further violence, and heavy implications of abuse/torture. PLEASE let me know if i missed anything, i'm far more worried about accurate warnings than i am about spoilers.

~

"Psst. Good morning, Arum!"

Arum flutters his eyes open at the sound of his name, startled and bizarrely eager and trying not to show it, and the human-

Amaryllis swims into view as he blinks the sleep from his eyes, grinning a conspiratorial grin with the toes of one boot obstinately edging past the line on the floor.

Arum reels himself back with a sigh, raising an eyebrow at the human in a vague question.

He doesn't know why she's back again. He won't let himself hope for another journal of crumbs, and he also doesn't understand this...

Damien isn't here today. He insists on informing Arum when he will be off-duty for a few days, so Arum knows that he will not be here to relieve the current guard in a few hours, even. And Amaryllis is back.

Three times seems... like it wouldn't be a coincidence. Sir Damien has been here more days than he hasn't, since Arum first noticed him. The chances are extremely unlikely that this other human would randomly happen to appear only when Sir Damien is absent.

Arum does not know what that means, but he certainly does not trust it.

"I would ask how you've been," she says, her smile tilting and her brow furrowing with something like understanding, or perhaps sympathy. "But that seems like a rub-salt-in-the-wound sort of question."

Arum snorts despite himself, and her grin returns. He lowers his head again, resting his chin on his arms with the collar digging uncomfortably into his neck, but he doesn't close his eyes, deciding to watch her as she glances back towards the door.

"So. Last time. I got the impression that your favorites were the flowers and the birds. And the landscapes, but most of my landscapes involve both flowers and birds, so." She pauses. "Unless I'm making that up?"

Arum sighs again, still uncertain, but after a moment he nods, ignoring the way the collar pulls. He glances away from her as well, for a moment, when her smile goes even more blinding.

"Great! Perfect. I've been doing a lot with the color green, lately."

She spends three tours worth of time going through her newest journal, packed thick with pages of botanical sketches and examinations of birds, the latter focusing on anatomy and the former- notes that Arum takes a few minutes to recognize as medical. A small part of him wishes he could ask about that. He is fairly certain that one of the succulents she has detailed is a variant of something he has- had in his greenhouse, and he is curious about the differences between the two.

(Has the Keep been able to manage the greenhouse without him?)

The birds feel less fraught. The way she draws the wings- it is perhaps more flat than he would prefer - she draws her lines a little too straight - but the musculature is extremely precise.

When she reaches the end, a few minutes before the next tour is due if his measure is correct, she exhales a long breath and lifts her gaze to him again.

"I hope-" she pauses. "I really don't know how to say this."

Arum lifts his head, then, annoyed and intrigued at the same time. He raises his brow, and she huffs a sigh.

"Alright, alright. Is this- do you like when I come do this? Is it actually- do you actually enjoy it, or do you not care at all? Or am I just making things worse for you?" She pauses as Arum stares at her, entirely blank, and then she continues. "You know that I'd leave you alone if you asked, right?"

Arum rolls his eyes, utterly unwilling to dignify that with a response, and she scowls at him, planting her hands on her hips.

"I mean it. Look, Arum," he twitches involuntarily, ignores it, "I told you before- I'm doing this because I think this- this whole situation is a nightmare, and I can't do anything real about it. Not-" she pauses, and Arum thinks- she changes what she was going to say, shaking her head. "I'm not here to make your imprisonment worse. That's the last thing I want. So. Do you want me to stop visiting?"

She- waits. Watches him. Arum feels his shoulders sink, discomfort and irritation and a resurrected bristling of his remaining scraps of pride, but- she only waits, and after a long, long moment, Arum relents. He shakes his head.

No. He does not want her to stop. He does not want to give up the chance to see her again. Does not want to give up these flattened trinkets of the world beyond these walls.

Her own shoulders lower, her expression melting into something like relief, and she nods with an enthusiasm that surprises him.

"Good. Good, Arum. I'm glad. I just-" she pauses again, biting her lip for a moment in a wincing sort of way, and then she mutters, "oh, fuck all of this," and then she-

She- pulls a page from her sketchbook? Arum makes in incredulous noise, pulling his head back, but she doesn't seem to hear him, her expression fixed in a determined scowl as she shoves the rest of the book into the satchel at her side. She takes the page in both hands, then, and folds it, and then folds it again, and then-

Ah. A little paper dart with narrowed wings, the edges of her drawing jagged and confusing between the folds. She holds it up in one hand, prepared to send the makeshift bird flying, and with one eyebrow raised, she asks, "Catch?"

Arum stares at her for slightly less of a pause, this time, and then he nods again, shifting to sit more upright as he lifts a pair of hands.

She grins, her hand flicking elegantly forward to send the dart gliding in an almost-perfect arc. Arum manages to catch it by a wing between his claws, his arm trembling as he pulls it back, hiding it quickly behind another hand.

"Just- something for- until my next visit. I know it isn't much, really, but-"

Arum shakes his head, not looking at her, his heart- pounding strangely, thudding in a way that makes his sternum feel tight and uncomfortable. He doesn't want to risk a word, but- he hisses sharply to stop that particular line of thinking. He unfolds the paper with more care than is strictly necessary, but with his cracked claws and shaking hands, he does not want to risk accidentally tearing his prize.

It's a drawing of a pond, thick with reeds and with a long-necked heron upright and noble in the shallows. Arum had lingered on this one perhaps the longest of what Amaryllis showed him today. Did she notice that? Was the choice intentional, or was is just the first drawing she could snatch up?

It smells like the charcoal did. Like charcoal, of course, in the first place, but- the warm alive scent he assumes must simply be Amaryllis herself. He flicks his tongue, his mouth painfully dry but still- he can smell the leather of the binding, some sort of wood, perhaps her home or the table she drew on. Chamomile, and his heart lurches again with a sort of desperation. Peaches and honeysuckle.

He tears his eyes form the page to look at her. She watches him with a rapt attention, as if cataloging his responses, but- he can't bring himself to indignation, for once. He's too tired, too... too grateful, despite himself.

She twitches a smile after a moment. "If you've still got the charcoal... I promise I won't be offended if you draw whatever you want on the back. Or- hell, all over the front, too. It's yours, it's a gift, you can do whatever you want with it. Tear it to pieces, it's yours."

Arum swallows, compulsively pressing the paper against his chest, the idea of shredding that peaceful little pond-

No. No, no-

Pathetic. He has been made truly, truly so pathetic. Accepting scraps and crumbs and drops. Accepting pity.

He is so tired.

(In his head, already, the idea of what he could add to the scene. Flora in the empty spaces around the pond. Suggestions of fish beneath the water. Someone at the bank, watching the birds and the frogs.)

He tucks the paper underneath himself, swallowing roughly. He hopes that she does not expect gratitude.

"I'll be back," she says when the next tour group enters, and Arum decides that she... probably isn't lying. He manages a nod, and she gives him another wide smile before she pulls her foot back from over the line, and disappears back into whatever her real life is.

~

The anger feels bigger, after that. He thinks of the knights trapping him here and seethes. He thinks of the little queen with the terrified eyes and wishes he had killed her himself, when he had the chance.

He wishes he could just starve to death. He wonders, if he had any magic to his tongue, if he could talk himself into it.

He folds Amaryllis' page carefully, using the seams from the paper dart, and hides it underneath the metal of the cuff on his upper left wrist, where his bone-thin frame allows just enough room to hide it properly.

And he thinks-

Pity, or kindness. Is there even a difference? Why do these gestures feel safer from Amaryllis rather than from Sir Damien? The knighthood, likely, but- is that all?

Amaryllis feels... earnest. Artless. He can almost feel her own anger, a sharp little mirror of his own. Damien feels as if he is only trying to prove something to himself.

And-

There is a thought, there.

Damien thinks him pitiable. Damien does not seem to fear him.

Damien is willing to risk stepping over the line, to try to offer Arum kindness- pity- whatever it is.

Arum can use that.

Arum thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

And when the guards are not looking, he sharpens the jagged edges of his claws on the stone beneath him.

~

Arum waits a few days. He is patient, in his own way. He knows that even though the knight is bound for foolishness, he is still a knight, and he will not trust a sudden change.

Arum softens his responses gradually, hesitating before he denies Damien's offer of water. He eyes the flask, allowing his expression to actually show the depth of his thirst, and Damien (yes, just like that, little fool) takes another step closer, offering the flask out in a loose hand.

Arum still waits, shaking his head and sighing himself back down to his stone. If Damien means to pity him... well. If it can be useful, Arum will not discourage such things.

Arum hesitates for a little too long, a few days later, and Damien huffs a breath, stepping entirely over the line, lifting the flask and almost pressing it into Arum's claws.

"Really, now," he says in a tone of gentle chastising. "Will you just-"

Arum would say that it almost feels too easy, if it hadn't been for the week or so of prelude. Claws around the wrist, dig the claw of his thumb into the pad of Damien's palm, twist and pull while he yelps at the sudden pain, drag the knight bodily back as he stumbles and-

Oh but he is stronger than he looks, lean muscle hidden beneath all that armor.

Arum is desperate, though. A little struggling is not going to be enough, this time. He folds Damien's back against his chest, twisting two of his own arms so the chains criss-cross in front of Damien's throat and he can pull, holding the knight securely against him.

"Ah- wh-"

Damien is furnace-hot. Arum did not expect that part. Mammals and all their ridiculous overabundance of heat. The foolish, starving part of Arum wishes to melt into the heat, nevermind the rest, he could sleep in this warmth. Almost as distracting as Damien's scent clouding his snout, leather and skin and feathers and-

Honeysuckle? His curly hair is dusted with pollen, he smells like a garden, Arum wants to devour him, but-

Task at hand, task at hand. One chance at this. Needs to play this situation right.

When he opens his mouth to hiss in Damien's ear, however, what comes out is-

"You should scream, honeysuckle."

Which-

Damien gasps, trying to arch away from Arum's grasp, so- it will do. It does not matter that the words tripped on his tongue. His claws and his teeth are sharp, and the chains are sturdy and thick, and Damien must know that Arum could very well kill him like this. The human windpipe is not all that difficult to pierce, or to crush.

"What are you doing-" the knight gasps, all the words compressed to one breath, and Arum snarls and tightens his grip.

"Scream," Arum hisses again, ignoring the flare of pain in his throat, but Damien does not need to. The door to the rest of the Citadel bangs open, and Arum grins. Apparently Damien's yelp when Arum cut his hand had been enough to cause a stir. And-

Ah.

Arum recognizes the knight that charges into the chamber first.

"Sir Damien," Sir Absolon says as he skids to a stop on the stone, his hand on his hilt and his tone strangely warning, as if his ire is directed towards his fellow knight before the monster threatening his life. Two other knights tail him, their expressions far more worried.

Arum does not care about their emotions, just at the moment. He pulls the chains tight across Damien's throat, enough to make him gasp and choke, and then he loosens his grip enough to let the creature breathe again.

"Unchain me," Arum demands, snarling past the collar, "or I kill him."

Damien chokes on a breath even without the chain going taut, panic in his scent now, in his still-struggling frame, but he doesn't try to speak.

"Out of the question," Sir Absolon snaps, his hand twitching against his hilt, his expression pulling into a contorted sneer.

"Then you are going to need to kill me," Arum says, and it would be a purr if not for his shredded voice, subtle and hungry. "That- is your decision. I kill- him. You free me. Or kill me."

Pain spreads from his throat, thudding in his eardrums and then behind his eyes at the prolonged attempt at communication, but- he has managed the most important part. Terms are set. He will be free, or someone will die. Arum would prefer himself, at this point, but-

"Go on then," Sir Absolon says, sharp and without hesitation. He sneers, gesturing his arms wide and making no move whatsoever to draw his weapon, and Sir Damien stills.

"S-Sir Absolon," Damien says, sounding very blank.

Arum tightens his grip, his secondary hands lifting to dig claws into the skin just above Damien's collarbone. "I will. Release me or- or I tear his throat open. Snap him like a twig-"

"Do it. Don't just threaten, monster, follow through." The knight- grins, white teeth in a neat row, and Arum pulls his head back. Even the other knights at Sir Absolon's back shift with something like discomfort, but they do nothing. Say nothing. "Keeping your nasty little swamp tamed is worth the cost of a knight or two, and Sir Damien serves our Citadel bravely, and unwaveringly. He's not afraid. Are you, Sir Damien?"

Damien-

Breathes. Sharp and quick with his eyes on this other knight, his heart thudding hard in his chest, his back pressed firm to Arum's chest, but- he does not answer. His mouth hangs open with his ragged breathing, but either he cannot speak, or he will not. Arum resists the urge to resettle his grip on the knight, resists the urge to- he doesn't know. To press for an answer himself, perhaps. Is Sir Damien prepared to die like this? To die just as much by the word of his fellow knight as by Arum's hands? Sir Damien's prattling tongue is still, now, though, and utterly silent, but- his blankness, his silence must be enough, because Sir Absolon's grin grows even further.

"There's a good boy," Absolon says smugly, and Sir Damien's muscles twitch in Arum's grasp. "He's a loyal knight. Loyal knights are willing to die for their Citadel. So, monster-" he pauses to laugh, an unpleasantly throaty sound that Arum cannot reconcile with Damien's own breath-soft laughter. "Sorry," he sneers, "so, Lord of the Swamp, commit to your threats and do it. See how well that ends for you. You still won't find your freedom, in truth or in death, but by Saint Aaron I can promise you, I do promise you, I'll make you wish you were dead."

I already do, you idiot, Arum thinks with a vicious snarl, feeling Sir Damien's heart skip a beat against him. There is nothing you can do to make my continued survival any worse.

But.

The knight is right. The threat is empty, isn't it? If these fools care so little for Sir Damien- if even his murder could not spur them to kill him in retribution-

They won't release him, either in freedom or in death. Not even in exchange for Sir Damien's life. Sir Damien's life is not worth anything to them.

... Arum should kill him anyway.

He should. He should slit the knight's throat and then try to at least make the other smug bastard bleed before they pull his choke-chain too tight to struggle against. He should make them suffer, as many of them as he can, because it is the only way he can make them feel even a fraction of what they've done to him.

(Sir Damien's heartbeat flutters against Arum's thumb, his breath shallow and uncertain, but alive, still alive.)

Arum swallows, squeezing Damien's pulse a little tighter, a pained growl in his own throat.

He should. He should.

But-

(He never wanted to make a crueler world.)

(How will he ever hear his Keep's lullaby again, if Sir Damien is dead?)

His arms tremble with even this little effort. The memory of the ease with which he once wielded his knives burns at the pit of his stomach. Sir Damien is hot as coals against him, the warmest thing he's touched since... before. His throat burns with the punishment of the collar and with something else, something less defined.

(oh, he says, his eyes so wide and honey-brown and touched by the barest edge of something like sympathy. A nightmare?)

His grip slackens, hopeless. Arum could, perhaps, blame it on his own trembling hands, but Damien startles against him as soon as he is able, twisting in his loosening grip to look back and search Arum's face with his own expression panicked flat. Arum feels what little strength he mustered for this failed effort leave him entirely, feels shame and grief and an ironic amusement at his own failure twist together within him, and he untwists the chains from around Damien's neck, and sways back from the knight so when the collapse takes him, he won't crumple to the floor with all their limbs still tangled together.

Damien half-catches him as he falls anyway, gripping his arms with a shocked noise, awkwardly easing him down against the plinth until Arum can pull away enough to simply curl into himself, burying his collared head against his knees, his trembling arms wrapping around the back of his head, his ruined horns.

"Stupid thing," Sir Absolon spits, fury underlying his tone, and then, "To the infirmary, Sir Damien."

"Wh-what?" Damien says, sounding so completely lost and breathless above Arum's head, and Arum curls into an even tighter ball.

"Infirmary, soldier, you're bleeding and we don't need you here right now."

"But- but he-"

"We can handle the beast, Sir Damien, since apparently you can't. You're done here. Go."

Arum does not look. He can't force his own eyes back open, cannot force his face to lift, but-

He can feel Damien looking at him, an almost burning intensity before he hears Damien's footsteps retreat, reluctant tap-taps across the stone until the door creaks open, pauses a breath, and then clicks uncertainly back closed.

Other footsteps, then. Heavier and with greater purpose, and the other knight - Sir Absolon, if ever Arum wished to curse a creature it would be him - steps closer to Arum's chains.

"Now. Swamp lord. That was an interesting little outburst, wasn't it? We've already been over this lesson so many times, I'd think you'd've learned by now! But maybe that's stupid of me, to think. Humans can learn. Hell, even dogs can learn. But you?" Arum cannot see him, refuses to look, tries not to let himself care, but- he can hear the grin in Sir Absolon's voice as he continues, "You're just a monster. I should've known not to expect any better."

There's a pause. Arum hears metal and leather rattle, and he knows automatically that the knights are setting their weapons aside. Out of reach.

"Now, monster," Sir Absolon says, all false cheer. "I can tell you a couple things about the rest of your day. You aren't going to die. That'd be bad for the war effort, see, and I'm not about to disappoint my queen."

Arum scoffs. He can't help himself, really, and- it isn't as if there's anything he can do to make what's coming worse.

"Shut the fuck up," Sir Absolon says in that same smug, certain voice, and Arum feels- hand on his horn, pressing his face down against the stone. "You aren't going to die, today," he says again. "But I made you a promise, lizard, and I'm damn well going to keep it."

#elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #sir absolon #(MY PERMA-ASSHOLE. THANK YOU FOR SERVING YOUR FUNCTION SIR) #also pain. pain and suffering. spain and puffering even #the beast in on his chain

[outpost-31]

can we get some facts about taxidermy??

OK TY LOVE. KISSES YOU KISSES YOU KISSES YOU

OK OK I have alot to say but it's mostly nonsense I'm sorry. because taxidermy, Dead stuff mention ofcourse. not too bad I guess? but I'm talking about hobby revolving around dead animals SO. if that's though then be careful

GOD ok I have alot to say but I'm very tired. IVE TALKED SO MUCH TODAY MY BRAIN IS FRIED. OK OK SO

THE PROCESSES OF IT ARE sO INTERESTING. it's such a complicated and beautiful form of art, even if it takes alot of knowledge of anatomy to be done properly. I think it's very sweet, honoring something like that by keeping it around in another way. taxidermy done for pets especially.. very sweet

I genuinely plan on making it a career it's so interesting to me. I cant exactly bring home roadkill even if i have much of the supplies to atleast scavenge bones properly even without full taxidermy, but it's such a huge part of my identity as a hobby I love it sm

and AGAIN I should add. ties into my interests with grimmer things and biology/anatomy BUT also scavengers and decomposition this time in particular.. vultures..

just. I love it sm. there's so much to be done with it, and the be thing for me is that I requires working with NOBODY. you can do it all on your own which is very good for me (<-hates loud noise and crowding). so I hope I can get into it GENUINELY eventually.. I could go on for hours about the process of both Gaining Bones and taxidermy and the differences between species but this post would be so long and it's nearly midnight soon so I cant think well atm

the only issues with it, for me, are that I am.. terrified of maggots. full breakdowns. trying to convince myself they're friends. also I hate that I know what decomposition smells like. uhm as expected: smells really fucking bad. the process of going down from dead thing to either taxidermy or just Bone can smell.. awful. real bad. like, cloud of ghoulish stench. as weird as this may be it reminds me of fish food

I don't know. God that sounds so weird. it just makes me so happy.. and the history of it UGHHH. meet my favourite piece of taxidermy. big chunky overstuffed walrus

#asks #💝 #HUGGING AND SQUEEZING YOU SO TIGHT TY FOR ASKING #im not afraid of most other decomposers like worms and beetles but maggots obliterate me.. #animal death #death mention

[rowanaelinn]

Illicit Affairs - Chapter Four

Masterlist

I have no idea what it is with me, I’m writing super fast lately.

No more chapters until I finish house of sky and breath! I can’t wait to read it, I’m ten chapters in and it’s already amazing (no spoilers).

If you were confused by Aelin’s discussion with her father last chapter I’m sorry, here’s a recap someone asked me! By the way, please remember that English isn’t my first language so I still struggle with all the medical related vocabulary.

Word count: 4,080

She was exhausted, there were no other words for it. As surprising as it was, Aelin was late in her coursework. It wasn’t her fault, she worked hard every day to stay at the top of her class, but schools didn’t teach the same notions at the same time, which meant that Aelin was late and lost. And she hated it.

It didn’t help that her mind didn’t seem to cooperate and instead chose to only think about pine green eyes, silver hair, and full, rosy, lips. It didn’t help that she replayed their conversation in his office over and over again, not better than an obsessed teenage girl.

Her nails were shorter than usual, all ten of them bitten to the skin. Aelin had noticed this particular fact only yesterday but she realized it must have gone on for a few days. What was a little nail-biting anyway?

But no matter how exhausted and anxious Aelin felt, she also felt fucking amazing. She hadn’t woken up purposefully early in years with the only goal to get ready the way she loved. She didn’t know why she decided to go back to her old self now, but Aelin smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror.

This way, she didn’t look like the woman she had tried to be for years. It wasn’t the soft, elegant makeup she was used to doing. No, Aelin went extra. Extra in the way that she felt herself, that she felt good.

Younger she had loved when everyone looked at her, she loved how easy attracting attention had always been. But when you didn’t want people to see you, when looking at yourself in the mirror hurt, being extra was not the best course of action.

It wasn’t that Aelin hated herself, she didn’t. But when she grew up she had spent hours in front of a mirror, exploring her face and body to find one slight difference with Celaena. It was something every twin did, looking for their own identity. But for years now, Aelin wanted to look like her, her own way to never forget her.

Today, Aelin was Aelin.

She tried to ignore how it coincided with her anatomy class. Instead, choosing to embrace herself.

Aelin’s mood improved at the way Lysandra and Dorian complimented her on the way she looked. It changed from the strange stares she was sure to receive from her parents. No, Lysandra had compared her to a fairy. Aelin didn’t know why tears had burned her eyes at this.

Dorian teased her, “Are you sure you won’t let me woo you?”

Lysandra slapped his shoulder, “You’re so annoying.”

Aelin ignored the chill that ran down her spine when he entered the classroom, how assured his steps were. Her heart went wide when his eyes met hers, it didn’t last more than one second but it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. She wanted to push this feeling away as much as she craved for more.

It was an effort to focus on his words and not the way his mouth moved, in how his gestures betrayed how passionate he was, in the small proud smile he bore whenever he spoke about his job.

At the end of the class, Aelin was proud of herself for doing anything else than stare at him. Really, it was a miracle.

Staring wasn’t bad, right? Everyone did it, most of the girls in Aelin’s class were way less subtle than she was. Everyone would hear their giggles every time he told the class an anecdote. Aelin tried her best not to be annoyed, she really did, but it was a failure.

She was about to pack her things up when her phone vibrated, she grabbed it in her back pocket. She didn’t know the number.

< Meet me in my office when your classes are done.

< It’s Rowan, by the way.

< Or Dr. Whitethorn.

Aelin’s cheeks flushed. He was as confused on how she should address him as she was, it made her feel better somehow. He had asked for her number that day in his office the week before. It was just in case he needed to contact her.

She looked up as he was pocketing his phone and Aelin nodded slightly when he looked at her.

—

Aelin swallowed before she knocked on the door, much calmer than she did the last time she was there. The door opened immediately. If she didn’t know better, Aelin would think he had been waiting behind the door.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hello,” he answered before shaking his head, “Please, come in.”

Aelin was surprised when she saw a comforter and a pillow on his couch, breaking the cleanness of the room. He stepped in front of her after he closed the door, going to fold up the comforter. “Sorry about that.”

“Rough night?”

He coughed, nodding when he was done. “Yeah, I- I didn’t go home.”

She wanted to ask why, she wanted to know everything about him, but she couldn’t. “Is everything alright?”

He nodded, “Why?”

She shrugged, crossing her arms to add a layer of protection, “You just seem out of it today.”

His eyes widened in surprise before he turned his head away, going to his desk. Did she know him enough to think he acted strangely? “I’m just tired.”

“Hm, okay.”

“That’s the truth,” he pressed.

“I didn’t deny it.”

He sighed, the sound loud in the near-silent room. Aelin didn’t say anything, waiting for him to either speak or gather his shit up. Why did they always have to see each other when one of them was near their breaking point? “It’s nothing, just some personal matter you don’t want to know about.”

“Says who?” she answered, surprising him and herself. She should have just said she felt sorry for the guy. “You know some of my personal problems if you want to talk about yours…”

He seemed to actually think about it for a moment, his brows furrowing. Aelin wanted to reach out and smoothen the place between his brow with her thumb, her other hand slowly stroking his neck.

Gods, she needed help.

“That’s not appropriate,” he answered, but his voice didn’t have as much resolve as it usually had. It was quieter, as if he didn’t want to say it.

“I’ve been told inappropriate is my middle name,” Aelin answered, trying to joke around.

It worked, a small smile returning to his lips as he looked at her. She wasn’t dressed in one of her jeans and hoodies. She had opened her closet and looked deep enough to find a white off-the-shoulder puffy shirt she had covered with a white corset, a long plain brown skirt covering her legs. Even with the usually warm weather of Doranelle, it was still January and if it wasn’t for her knitted cardigan and thighs under her long skirt she’d be freezing.

He smiled at her outfit, “Nice clothes.”

She smiled too, the two words better than anything else, “Thanks.”

Aelin let herself fall on his couch as if she owned the place, “You asked me here for what?”

He looked as if he forgot why as he said, “Oh, yeah.” He stood against his desk, his hands gripping it on both sides of his body. “Craniotomy.”

Her face turned to the portrait of confusion, “What?”

He crossed his arms, a playful smile on his lips. “Craniotomy. What do you know about it?”

“It’s probably the most done brain surgery, you take out a piece of the skull called the bone flap to see the brain, it’s going back to its place at the end of the surgery.”

“Good,” he praised, “Which case would require a craniotomy?”

Her eyes widened as she recalled everything she had ever read on the subject, “A lot, which is why it’s the surgery you’ve probably done the most. It’s for you what is an appendectomy for a general surgeon. But in short, to diagnose, to take out tumors, to lower pressure, clipping aneurysm… So many things. Why?”

He grinned, “I have one tomorrow, I’m clipping two aneurysms. Basic surgery for me, impressive for you. You’re coming to see it and you’re going to watch me train.”

“What?” Aelin asked, her eyes wide as she leaned forward.

“You heard me.”

“You want me to watch a craniotomy?”

He nodded, “In the OT, yeah. And train with me.”

OT meant operating theater, the room where students or spectators could watch surgeries. She had never been on one, but she knew Celaena had. “Are you sure? You’re supposed to train, not me. I mean, you’re the one performing surgery on a real person tomorrow, not me. I don’t want to distract you.”

“Are those your true thoughts or is this you finding an excuse?”

“I’m never finding excuses!”

He deadpanned her, knowing full well that it was a lie. Aelin sighed, “Let me guess, you won’t let me say no.”

He frowned, “Of course, I’m going to let you say no. I want to teach you, yes, but I also want to respect your wishes.”

And this, the way he gave her a choice, had her heart blooming in her chest. So she said, “I needed to go see my father anyway. And you’ll save me from the subway.”

“You just decided I’ll drive you?” His grin was amused.

She shrugged, “Yes. Professor and driver. Those are two very good jobs, Dr. Whitethorn.”

He frowned, “It’s weird.”

“What is weird?”

“You, calling me Dr. Whitethorn.”

Aelin was silent for a few moments, “I’m not supposed to call you anything else.”

“I know. Still weird.”

She didn’t comment on how it felt for her either.

—

“You don’t seem impressed,” he said as they walked through the halls of the hospital. They were on the fifth floor, this one and the sixth were for surgery. Patients, nursing room, ORs, everything was here.

Aelin shrugged, “My parents and I lived here until my aunt died, but when my sister… We moved back here. I basically grew up in this hospital.”

Rowan’s brows touched his hairline. “Really?”

Aelin smiled, “Yeah. You see that resting room right next to Room 478?” Rowan nodded. “The light was always broken in it, so whenever Celaena and I would play hide and seek I’d hide there. She knew where I was but the hall and the room were too dark for her to come after me. She used to be terrified of the dark.”

Rowan chuckled with her, opening one of the doors with his pass. These doors weren’t there when Aelin was a child, security had improved. “It sounded like fun.”

“It was,” they turned to the left. “This place was a real playground for two bored girls.”

It felt strange to speak Celaena’s name. Her parents always ignored the subject and Aedion usually toyed around it. It still hurt him. Aelin found it usually painful to think about her, but today she could spend hours recalling everything she did in this hospital. She hadn’t come back here once since Celaena. But she was fine, and not in an ignoring-her-feelings kind of way. She was truly fine.

“It sometimes is a playground for thirty-five years old men, so I can see why two girls had so much fun.”

“The days where both my parents had late surgeries or emergencies were the best. It was not rare for her and me to just sleep here. This nurse, Marion, used to stay with us whenever she worked. We loved her.”

He seemed surprised, “Marion still works here.”

“Does she?”

He nodded, “A true terror for any surgeon who don’t have their head out of their ass.”

She laughed, “Sounds like her. Do you know if she’s on shift today?”

He shrugged, “No idea but we can ask.”

Aelin felt a little guilty for taking so much of his time, “You have to train for tomorrow, I don’t want to-”

“Quit it, Aelin. I have plenty of time for you to say hello to someone who was important to you.”

She smiled then, a pure and bright smile. Coming back to this place wasn’t so bad after all. “Fireheart?” Her mother’s voice echoed through the hall, Aelin turned around to find her mother in her blue scrubs staring at her.

“Mom,” Aelin breathed, her hand clenching around the handle of her bag at the way her mother looked at her outfit.

Disapprovement and distaste were written in every trait of her face, “You look…”

“Amazing? I know, thank you.”

Thankfully her mother didn’t say anything else, “Hello, Dr. Whitethorn.” She greeted him before turning once more to Aelin, “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be home by now.”

Aelin replaced her bag on her shoulder, all her strength used to not bring her fingers to her teeth. “Dad asked me to come so he could give me all the passes and keys I need.”

“Oh, your dad is in surgery, baby. Big accident, they needed all the help they could get. Text him and tell him to bring everything to you at home.”

As the chief of surgery, it was rare for her father to still perform surgery, bureaucracy taking too much of his time. But whenever he could he still put on gloves and ran to a bloodbath. He loved it too much to stop.

“Will do,” she assured her mother.

“Good. Need a ride home?”

Aelin awkwardly pointed between Rowan and her, “Uh, no, I’m-”

“I’m showing her how to clip an aneurysm,” Rowan explained. Yeah, that was what they were doing. Not visiting her favorite nurse. Her parents had never talked about Marion, they didn’t know how much the woman had taken care of Aelin and Celaena. Aelin had never asked, deeming it an old wound that didn’t need to be open once more.

Her mother’s face lit up, “Oh, that’s amazing. If your father finishes his surgery on time maybe you can catch–”

“I’ll drive her home, Dr. Ashryver, don’t worry.”

The five minutes drive from her school to the hospital hadn’t been long, but how would she survive the twenty minutes toward her house? Just her and him, in a confined space. Her imagination already ran wild. Her mother smiled, “It’s very nice of you, Dr. Whitethorn. I’ll see you at home,” she told Aelin who returned the good-bye.

When she left, Aelin hadn’t moved. She let out a long breath that had been burning her lungs for seconds now, “She was so going to say something about my clothes.”

She could feel Rowan’s serious gaze on her body, “Why would she? It’s cute.”

She huffed a laugh, ignoring how pink her cheeks ust be from how hot she felt. “She used to hate how I dressed as a teenager.”

“I assume it was the way you dressed back then?” His eyebrow was raised, his lips turned in a sly smirk.

“It’s pretty mild compared to what I used to wear.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “You’re impossible.”

Aelin struggled to swallow when she felt his hand slide on her back, stopping on her lower back as he guided her through the hall. Aelin didn’t say anything, not daring to say anything.

If her asking about his life was inappropriate, she didn’t know what was the way he touched her now. There was nothing sinful, nothing out of the ordinary, but Aelin’s body had a very special reaction.

Subtly, she got closer to him as she walked. Just enough for their bodies to brush, and she didn’t feel him back away. She knew he was as hyper-aware of her as she was of him.

Her thoughts took another turn as she saw familiar brown hair braided and then gathered in a bun.

She knew she was in a hospital, but Aelin couldn’t help her squeal, “Marion!”

The woman turned around, first, her brows were furrowed but a second later, when she saw who had been calling her name, the woman was shocked. She was still the same, just some wrinkles at the side of her eyes and some grey hair on her head. she also wore all her exhaustion but did only make her more beautiful. She was exhausted because she loved her job.

Aelin walked to the woman and didn’t wait before throwing her arms around the nurse’s neck. The woman returned the embrace directly, and Aelin could feel her chuckle, “What are you doing here, little fire?”

Aelin laughed at the nickname she had given her. She took a step back and covered her mouth with her hands, “I’ve just been told you still work there and I wanted to see you.”

She frowned, slightly slapping Aelin’s elbow. “Of course, I still work here, did you expect me to be retired?”

Aelin chuckled, “I feel like there’s a wrong answer to this.”

“You bet there is.”

It felt good to see her again, she still remembered all the lullabies Marion had sung her. Marion had a daughter just a little younger than Aelin, maybe it was why she always took care of her. “Look at you,” she beamed, “You’re all grown-up.”

“I’m even taller than you now.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “You know how rude you sound?”

Aelin chuckled and Marion’s pager rang, cutting short their reunion. “I need to go, little fire, but we should go to lunch with my Elide one of these days.”

“I’d love to,” Aelin answered and with one last smile, Marion was gone.

“Are you happy?” Rowan asked, she had almost forgotten his presence.

She exhaled, “It doesn’t feel as gut-wrenching as I thought.”

“Good,” he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

—

“Do you understand?”

He had spent the last thirty minutes showing her how to clip an aneurysm, taking his time to describe everything he was doing, always looking away from his microscope, checking if she wasn’t too lost.

Aelin was sitting on the table next to where he stood, in a teasing mood she answered, “It looks awfully easy. Are you sure you deserve that much money on your paycheck?”

His eyebrows slowly rose, a smirk curling his lips. “Go on then, Miss It’s Easy.”

Aelin swallowed, losing a bit of her confidence. She had just expected him to roll his eyes and tell her she was impossible. He laughed at her pale face, “Not that much of a mouth on you, why’s that?”

She squinted at him, ready to make him swallow his tongue. “Move and let the pro show you how it’s done.”

He chuckled, backing away with his hands raised, “Cocky, Galathynius.”

She rolled up her sleeves above her elbows, her defiant eyes never leaving his playful ones. “Gimme,” she said, talking about the instruments.

Rowan frowned a little before asking, “You’re left-handed, aren’t you?”

“How do you know that? And why?”

He shrugged and probably took it as an answer, “You held your beer with your left hand that night.” How did he remember that small of a detail? “I am, too. It’s a little special for us, as the instruments are made for right-handed people.”

He took her hands and slid the two long instruments. “You just need to hold that one this way,” he turned it a little, so the handling was more comfortable.

The two instruments had a camera built-in that was connected to a TV. Rowan could see everything she was doing in that weird fake brain. He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. And he called her cocky. “What are you waiting for?”

She rolled her eyes, “Men. You’re all the same.”

He chuckled but didn’t get mad, not as Chaol would always get whenever she had the audacity to make jokes. It felt refreshing. Aelin had forgotten to adjust the microscope to fit her height. She was determined to just raise on her tiptoes but Rowan didn’t agree.

“Here,” he said, coming to stand beside her and adjusting the microscope perfectly. Her eyes met his for a second before she breathed her thanks.

She looked into the object and… Yeah. She got why it was hard. All sense of reality was deformed when she looked through that shit. She wasn’t going to admit it, though.

She’d just have to take her time as she brought the tools closer to where she saw the fake aneurysm. Rowan tsked when her clip came close to one of the parts of the brain, breaking all her focus. She looked at him, “You think you’re helping?”

“Your patient is paralyzed.”

She was offended, “I barely brushed it!”

He knew she was mostly joking along, “I’m pretty sure the brain is a quite sensible organ. It’s just like you.”

Her mouth was wide open at the insult, ready to answer something nastier when he came behind here. “I’ll show you.”

Her breathing entirely stopped as his front came in contact with her back. He had to stand close, but it meant for their bodies to touch more than they had in the past. His hands grabbed hers, he was in control of everything. He bent, pushing her head to the side with his, “Let me some space,” he teased.

Aelin was at his mercy, she let him one side of the microscope as she used the other, his torso applying pressure on her back whenever he breathed. She was pleased to know his breathing was as ragged as her, that she wasn’t the only one affected by the contact.

“You need to hold your wrist this way,” he whispered, changing the angle of her hands. “If you don’t then your hands will shake and it’ll increase the chances of cramping.”

Aelin only nodded, relishing on the way his body warmed hers. Rowan kept going as he explained, “You take a deep breath,” he did and so did she, and then he moved their hands.

Aelin didn’t care about the way he played with her fingers, giving her a false sensation of control. He was confident in his movements, no fear or hesitation laced the way he controlled her hands.

Aelin leaned back into him, unable to stop. Rowan’s hands flattered for a second before he kept going, his voice still whispering as he explained everything to her. This, him teaching her, it was… attractive.

With one final move of the clip with their left hand, Rowan whispered, “It’s done.”

Slowly, he guided their tools out of the fake-patient’s brain before slowly putting them on the metal table. He didn’t move, his hands still on hers, his body still covering hers.

Aelin dared to look to the side to find him looking at her with dark, green, eyes. Her breathing turned frantic at the way he looked at her, as if he would devour her. He licked his lips, leaving them parted as Aelin’s gaze settled on them.

She wanted to kiss him, wanted to know how he’d kiss her. Would it be featherlight? Would it feel the way she always felt around him? World consuming? She wanted to know if those lips would be rough or loving with hers.

When she wanted to pay attention to that neck of his, she wanted to lick and kiss every inch of it, discovering the tattoo she knew he was hiding. She wanted to do so many things to him, and wanted him to do so many things to her. But mostly, right now, Aelin wanted to push him to the floor and ride him until they were both breathless and out of this world.

He seemed to think the exact same thing, his hands clenching around hers. She looked back at him then, and Aelin decided to throw all her cares out of the window. She brought her face closer to his.

He leaned into her, her eyes closing. It was going to happen. Years of wonder finally put to an end, she’d know how he hated. How he kissed.

But instead of the warm feeling of a kiss, Aelin was only felt with emptiness and cold. Rowan had pushed himself away, a good six feet between them now as his face rested between his hands.

What the hell.

Aelin’s body was electric, hating her for letting it down. Rowan groaned, a sound full of defeat. “I need to check on a patient, I’ll drive you home right after.”

He left without leaving room to question or discussion. Maybe, maybe he had been right. It shouldn't have happened.

••••••

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#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius #illicit affairs

[trixree]

As a queer woman I never felt welcome in the Okama, even back at Impel Down. They never felt militant to me despite their role in the Revolutionaries, mostly seeming content with being comedic fodder and sidekicks for cishets.

But I did feel welcome in the Donquixiote Family. Despite their queerness being limited to coding, I always felt as if they had more righteous rage and pride, not being talked down to and existing outside a social norm.

Am I the only one here?

I think the okama tap into a particular Thing about queerness and that Thing is the cishet preoccupation with The Body. Do I think Oda did this intentionally? God no. Do I fault anyone for not connecting to the okama in the same way I did? Absolutely not. What follows is a VERY long rant that no one asked for about why I find the okama particularly compelling as a subversive sort of queer power in the One Piece Universe. If you choose to read more, you continue at your own peril.

For about as long as there has been an effort to police queerness, there's been an effort to define it in "scientific" (= pseudo-scientific) terms. Why? Well, because if something has a pathology, it has a cure. Early attempts to pathologize queerness ranged from "gay men can't whistle" (yes, I'm serious) to "lesbians are left-handed" to very specific (and very racialized!) imaginings of "proper" bodily proportions (see: size of the clitoris, presence/absence of body hair, muscle distribution, etc.) And this compulsion to give a morphology to queerness is still around today! See: discussions of sex differences in the brain, the diagnostic tool of “gender identity disorder”, and The Gay Gene™. If you want to read up on this more, I really recommend Nancy Ordover's American Eugenics

This preoccupation with the Queer Body is in our history, in our medicine, and absolutely in media. Specifically, in One Piece, I think that it’s these sorts of Queer-Body caricatures that Oda relies on with his design of the okama.

There’s long been this belief that queerness was linked to hormone production. In the 1896 work of English eugenecist Havelock Ellis, Ellis suggested that an “abnormal balance in internal secretions” was to blame for the morphological anomalies he observed to be associated with “lesbianism.” (And anyone who knows anything about the brutal history of experimentation on queer folks knows that hormonal experimentation was a particularly grim recurring feature.) Funny how the choice devil-fruit for Emporio Ivankov was the Horu Horu no Mi…

The scene that introduces us to Ivankov’s powers was a very particular evocation of the mythical terrors of hormones. Before our eyes, Ivankov turns a buff, hairy, deep-voiced man’s man into a high-voiced, big boobed, blushing lady. Is it meant to be comical? Most definitely. Does it also tap into a century’s worth of deep societal and medical anxiety about the sorts of people—re: “sexual deviants”—that an “abnormal balance of secretions” creates? I sure think it does. And, more obviously, the character design of the okama draws from this tradition of Queer Anatomy. See, the “hairy men in dresses”, the “animal/beastial” (with my apologies to furries), and the starkly contrasted/clashing binary:

But here’s where I think Oda’s intended caricature of queer bodies backfired for a lot of queer One Piece viewers: he made the “mistake” of making Ivankov a character. Like @talesofmetalandmagic pointed out, a lot of the okama get relegated to a role as comedic fodder. But there’s one thing that I think Oda does really well and that is creating a fully realized world. Many of his gag characters come back as fully-fledged people with backstories, motivations, depth!!!! (Just fucking look at Buggy!!!!) Oda does the same thing with Ivankov by making them the leader of the revolutionary army and a vitally important ally to Luffy during Impel Down/Marineford.

Are there things about the okama that are offensive? Absolutely. And look, I don’t get to dictate what does or does not offend any given queer person, alright? I am not the Queer Tzar. I’m just saying that I think there was something unintentionally clever in having a huge part of the Impel Down arc contingent on queer-trope gag characters—they are unapologetically vital to the story. I mean, just look at Bon-chan, whose heroism was the only reason Luffy made it out of Impel Down.

Say what you will about Oda, but his characters are never really just one thing, and the okama are not just offensive queer caricatures. They’re powerful allies, guardians of key knowledge, and heroes with emotional weight. For me personally, seeing these characters run around as blatant call-backs to the gay nightmares of english eugenecists while having their pronouns Respected by the main character is something like empowerment. Yeah, the okama of the Kamabaka Kingdom have stubbly faces, big red lips, and pink frilly dresses, but they also spent two years kicking Sanji’s ass, and honestly? Fucking get his ass, ladies.

@talesofmetalandmagic says she feels drawn to the righteous rage and pride of the queer-coded Donquixiote Family. I absolutely think there’s some merit to that. Doflamingo is very campy, and the visual of him Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlbossing his way to the top has its own sort of subversive power to it.

But in my watching experience, the Class aspect of Dofflamingo’s backstory sort of drowned out any subversive queer power he might have had. Not to get this Girlboss Cancelled or anything, but the man was very motivated by the belief in his own inherent superiority and his right to like… have slaves and stuff.

All of this is to say that no one gets to determine how your lived experiences connect you to works of fiction. I was drawn to the subversive potential of the okama because of my own academic and personal interests in imaginings of the queer body. You, my dear, can be drawn to whatever the fuck you want.

#haha isn't it cool how i spent like an hour writing this #i use my time very wisely actually #also yes i did make that doffy gif what are you going to do about it? #trixree speaks #meta and analysis #one piece analysis #my posts #long post #impel down #queer history #thank you for the ask <3

[maddiewritesstucky]

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Stripper Bucky / Architect Steve

Words: 3790

Tags: Sexy shower antics, post-exercise endorphin highs, Steve is a badass for like 10 minutes, Bucky is not a morning person (until he suddenly is), enthusiastic morning sex

A follow-up one-shot to the slow death of Steve Rogers. Many thanks to my radiant cassowary @kalee60​ for giving it your clever eyes. Infinite birdseed for you 😘

(Also on Ao3)

When Bucky wakes up, he is aware of two things, and two things only.

One - it’s way too fucking early for his eyelids to have peeled themselves back the way they have, if the rosy tint of the sky outside is anything to go by, and two - his foot should have connected with some part of Steve’s anatomy by now on it’s customary post-waking stretch across the mattress.

His body is coming online one limb at a time, and he grunts his displeasure into the rumpled sheets; gaze firmly averted from the clock on the bedside table. Putting a number to it will only make him angry, and the stupid beautiful soft dawn light filling the bedroom tells him everything he needs to know anyway. 

Why they had decided to move into Steve’s apartment when Bucky’s actually had things like properly functioning curtains, he has no idea. 

"Steve,”  he groans, voice thick with the remnants of sleep and the injustice of waking before he intended to. 

He kicks his foot out a little further; throws an arm out to join the search party too, but finds Steve’s side of the bed decidedly more vacant than it had been when he fell asleep last night. 

Running, some vaguely helpful part of Bucky’s subconscious supplies, you fell for a man who goes running at bastard o’clock in the morning. 

He flops over onto his back and scrubs his hands up over his face; up through the tangled mess of hair that seems to find new ways of defying its scrunchie-prison every night. His vision sharpens into focus and sticks a moment on the giant canvas print photo of himself and Steve smiling back at him from the far wall; a grinning relic of a Bucky who was not woken before his time.

It still makes his stomach flip a little, that picture - the two of them stuffed into the heavy-knit sweaters Bucky’s ma had made them last Christmas; both in the  throes of losing their shit over the comically absurd miscalculation she’d made on size. Steve’s got tears in his eyes, and Bucky’s aren’t even open, and they’re clinging to each other with that special kind of desperation that intense, prolonged laughter seems to spawn.

It’s everything good about their life together, that photo; the sheer warmth and joy they’ve found in one another over the past year, the sense of  home and family and right. 

It’s even more heartwarming, Bucky finds, when the sun is a reasonable distance above the horizon.

He drags his protesting body out of its sleep-warmed cocoon, his intentions set on the brand new bag of espresso grind that Last-Night Bucky had so wisely left sitting on the kitchen counter. 

He’s going to use Steve’s favorite mug, the one he’d happened across in a yard sale that reads ‘architects do it on drafting tables’  with a lewd stick figure drawing. Partially because it holds the most coffee, and partially because if Steve had remained in bed this morning, with all his familiar warmth and dependable big-spoon behavior, Bucky would have remained blissfully unconscious until his alarm went off. 

...Steve’s not here to actually  see  this particular middle-finger of a gesture, but that’s beside the point. Bucky will  know.

It’s not until he’s shuffling his way down the hall, already two steps past the closed bathroom door, that Bucky registers the faint sounds of water hitting tile, and the sporadic, off-key hum of a post-run Steve. 

His feet halt in their tracks before he’s even made the conscious decision that coffee can wait.

He wants to keep walking, to get his precious cup of bean nectar and crawl back into bed for another hour or three, it’s just...

Post-run Steve is kind of Bucky’s jam. 

He’s sweaty, and loose-limbed, and hopped up on exercise endorphins which, more often than not, make him inexplicably horny and give him the closest approximation of a bad boy complex that someone with Steve’s demeanor could possibly get. 

Post-run Steve is the only good thing about being awake at this god forsaken hour. 

The sunrise, and the stillness, and the smell of fresh dew can get fucked, but Bucky will carpe the hell out of a diem for some Post-run Steve.

He slips quietly into the bathroom, and is immediately grateful for the time he spent descaling the shower door yesterday when he’s met with an unimpeded view of Steve’s glorious back. What goddamn right an architect has looking like that, Bucky has no idea, but you wanna talk about some aesthetically pleasing angles?

Steve’s got one hand braced against the wall, head dipped to draw out the line of his back. His skin’s a little flushed; water channeling in fast-flowing rivulets between the soft ridges and swells of his drawn-taut muscles, and he’s breathing those quiet grunts of the recently-exerted. 

He’s a living, breathing thirst-trap, and the knowledge that he’d only blush and change the subject if Bucky told him so just makes it a thousand times better. 

Bucky pushes his soft flannel sleep pants off his hips and lets them fall to the floor, sending up another silent salute to Last-Night Bucky for going commando, and steps forward to pull open the shower door.

...Later on, when Bucky is reflecting on it all, he’ll blame the early hour and his pre-caffeinated state for the fact that he didn’t realise. The soft noises falling from Steve’s lips, the very particular bunch and flex of very particular muscles…

Any other time of day, Bucky would have known straight away. 

Any other time of day, and Bucky wouldn’t have even needed to be in the same room - he could be at the bodega down the street, and his nipples would inexplicably harden at the pluck of Steve’s distant arousal on the cosmic spiderweb. 

But as it happens in the moment, it’s not until Steve’s head is falling back on a low moan that Bucky realizes exactly what it is he’s walked in on. 

“Oh, shit...”

It’s off his tongue before he can reel it back in, and Steve almost jumps out of his skin. 

His head whips around, and for the briefest flicker of a moment, he looks shocked and uncertain and embarrassed as all hell. 

But this right here is no weekday-afternoon Steve. This is not the blushing, bumbling hunk of love meee that occupies the corporeal form of Steve Rogers 95% of the time. 

No, this is Post-run Steve, and it’s all of about two seconds before he’s schooling his features into something more akin to vaguely-smirking indifference; turning until he’s facing Bucky front on, and settling his weight back against the shower wall.

“Babe, I’m sorry, I didn’t--” Bucky begins, as close to apologetic as one can really be about seeing their significant other in a compromising yet Very Sexy position. But the words dry up on his lips as Steve lifts a finger to his own in the universal gesture of ‘shush.’   

He watches, rapt, as Steve first reaches over to the tap and shuts off the water, and then takes up the bottle of Bucky’s conditioner, squirting some into his hand before wrapping it back around his cock. 

And then that jacked-up idiot, that neuro-chemical flooded pseudo bad bitch, looks Bucky dead in the eye...and goes right back to jerking off. 

He’s putting on a goddamn show with it too - pulling at his cock, long and slow and tight; dropping his head back against the wall and letting his moans ricochet shamelessly off the tile. The sound of his fist working over his dick is lewd as hell, so much more audible for the fact that there’s no rush of running water to mask it anymore, and Bucky wonders briefly if he ever actually woke up at all, if this isn’t just all a very believable wet dream. 

It certainly contains all the usual elements - intense eye contact; a big fat dick getting rubbed off by a beefy, naked, wet dude (bonus that it’s Bucky’s actual, real-life boyfriend); the kinds of sounds you usually only hear in porn…

For all Bucky knows, he could still be tucked up in bed asleep, and not standing here naked and painfully erect in this steamed up bathroom, watching his boyfriend jack it like he’s starring in some locker-room porno.

“You need somethin’, or you just come in here to watch?” Steve drawls, arching a brow at him, and yeah  - there’s a  lot of things Bucky needs all of a sudden.

He rakes an assessing gaze over Steve’s body, stepping into the shower and pressing his palms to the swell of Steve’s pecs.

“I just wanted to make sure your run went okay,” he shrugs, “no pulled tendons, shin splints...aching muscles…that kinda thing.” 

He squeezes at Steve’s shoulders and his biceps and his tiny waist; threads his hands up through Steve’s hair and slots a thigh between Steve’s to push their hips together. 

Steve’s skin is so warm, and slippery, and he smells like soap, and Bucky starts mentally calculating just how much time they have and how much energy he can feasibly expend before their respective work days start.

He’s not on stage tonight, but he is on shift for his day job at the community center, teaching a preschool ballet class at 10am, and then a seniors ballroom dancing session at midday before his contemporary classes in the afternoon. Steve’s working from home today, so hypothetically it wouldn’t matter if Bucky wore him out a little…

“Buck...” 

“Mm?” 

He rubs his whole self shamelessly against Steve, pressing in so the barbells spiked through his nipples drag across the wet expanse of Steve’s chest. He kisses Steve’s neck and his tits and his mouth, hungry and handsy and a little frantic, and Steve laughs softly against his lips as he turns them to push Bucky up against the slick tile of the shower wall.

“Your concern is deeply moving,” he deadpans, caging Bucky in with hands planted either side of his head, “but I think we need to talk about your bathroom etiquette...didn’t anybody ever teach you to knock?” 

He’s staring Bucky down with eyes lit up something wicked; his body so very nearly touching Bucky’s but not quite, and it hits Bucky all over again that his boyfriend is, physically speaking...really fucking imposing.

It’s easy to forget, when he’s being...well, Steve. Perpetually polite, kind-hearted, goofy...Bucky feels like when he looks at Steve, he sees the softness of his nature, the quiet goodness that radiates out of him. 

He sees the sensible shoes and the khaki pants, the careful artist hands and the way Steve still sometimes carries himself like the much-smaller man he claims to have once been. 

He’s Stevie, and Bucky wouldn’t have him any other way. 

But all of that also happens to be contained within a 6’2”, 200lb frame, and right now...Bucky kind of wants to suffocate under it. 

“I am so sorry, Steven,” he says, though it’s entirely negated by the raging hard on he’s sporting and the giddy, gratuitous manner in which he’s still feeling Steve up. 

He skates his fingertips down the rippled plain of Steve’s stomach, down to the trail of dusky blond hair leading south from his belly button, but Steve catches his hands and pins them up above his head. 

“I’m sure you are,” Steve hums, “but I don’t think you appreciate the gravity of the situation here. See, you caught me in a very private moment, one that I was very much enjoying, and now I’m all thrown off. You got me feelin’ shy.” 

...There’s some very compelling evidence to the contrary rubbing up against Bucky’s hip right now, but that’s beside the point. Steve’s teeth are scraping a line all the way down Bucky’s neck to nip at the ice fractals tattooed across his shoulder, and Bucky’s more than willing to play along.

“However can I make it up to you?” 

He arches into the press of Steve’s body, the hard line of Steve’s cock nestled into the crease of his hip.

If Steve shifted just slightly, he’d be rubbing up against Bucky’s dick. 

It’s not an accident that Steve isn’t making that shift. 

“You really want to?” Steve kisses the question against his skin, making his way slowly back up to Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky nods vehemently.

He’s already wetting his lips in preparation for all the ‘making up’ they’re about to do; signalling his knees to get ready to bend and pulling at Steve’s grip on his wrists, but Steve doesn’t release him.

Instead, he pulls back just far enough to look Bucky square in the eye, and smiles entirely too sweet for the authoritative edge that rumbles into his voice. “Go back to bed, Bucky.” 

Bucky has to blink a few times as the words circulate in his ears. His expression turns from I’m about to get some D!  to  oh god I’m being denied the D in about 0.2 seconds flat.

Bed is very far away from the dick that is currently in need of reparations, he can’t achieve anything from bed.

“But—you said—I was gonna—”

“Go. back. to bed.”  Steve tightens his grip on Bucky’s wrists and leans his whole weight against him, right up in his space so his lips catch against Bucky’s as he speaks, “...and wait for me.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

A big, stupid, ‘bout-to-get-railed grin stretches across Bucky’s face. He wriggles free of Steve’s grasp and stumbles out of the shower, stopping himself just shy of a wildly enthusiastic ‘yes sir!’

He thinks he can hear Steve’s laughter as he takes off back down the hall toward the bedroom, but it might just be his own echoing back to him. He throws himself down onto the unmade bed, still warm from when he got up not ten minutes ago, and honestly who needs to sleep in anyway? Sleeping in is for people who don’t have absolute poundcake boyfriends to screw them into the sunrise.

He should have toweled off, he realizes as his damp skin rubs against the bedding, but he cannot be blamed for life choices made before six am, and there are far more important things afoot anyway. 

Things like the sound of the shower turning back on for approximately forty-five seconds, then the muted pass of a towel being scrubbed over hair, and footsteps on the hardwood growing ever closer to the bedroom.

God, this is gonna be a good day. What  a beautiful day to be greeting the dawn, making the most of his youth, seizing everything life throws at him!

He has the good sense to snatch the lube out of the bedside drawer just as Steve walks into the room, eyeing him with amusement and hunger in equal measures. 

“You know what the problem is, with what just happened back there, Buck?” 

Steve saunters toward the bed with all the nonchalance of a man whose work day doesn’t start for another three hours. 

He wraps his sizable hands around Bucky’s ankles and yanks him down the bed a little - for no other purpose than to hear Bucky’s breath hitch at the unnecessary show of strength - and climbs up onto the mattress to straddle Bucky’s shins. 

“The problem is, I don’t like to make a spectacle of myself.” He plucks the lube from Bucky’s hand and pours some into his own, spreading it over his cock in lazy pulls. “Being the center of attention, having eyes on me...that’s more your speed.”

“Mhmm, yes, I am an attention whore,” Bucky nods, reaching grabby hands out at Steve who refuses to shift any further up his body, “and you are humble and handsome and have a big dick. Make out with me.” 

Steve tuts and shakes his head, reaching his unoccupied hand to flick at one of Bucky’s nipple piercings. 

“Oh, I don’t think you get to make requests right now. See, the worst part of you throwin’ me off back there? I was so fucking close.  So now what you get to do, James, is flip the fuck over, and let me finish what I started.” 

...Jesus, Bucky loves Post-run Steve.

He’s gonna marry Post-run Steve and have his hopped up little post-run babies, and make sure Steve never misses a single day of early morning exercise so he can bask in the glory of this magnificent bastard every goddamn day of his life.

Bucky flops over onto his front and gets his knees under himself, sticking his ass up in the air with a wiggle that’s probably a lot more comical than it is enticing. But the heat of Steve’s palms hook around the front of his thighs and pull them out from under him, sprawling him flat against the mattress.

There’s a sudden clamping of teeth on his ass cheek and the sharp swat of an open palm, and then Bucky’s being pressed firmly into the sheets by Steve’s weight settling high up on the backs of his thighs. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Steve sighs, planting his hands on the dip in Bucky’s spine, “I’m gonna use your ass to get off, and then I’m going to get back into bed, while you go make us some coffee.”

Bucky nods into the mess of blankets under his cheek, futilely trying to rock his hips up against Steve’s considerable weight. “Yes, agreed, punishment fits the cri-hi wow okay.” 

A wholly undignified sound is wrenched from Bucky’s chest as Steve skips all pretense of tease, and thrusts his slicked up cock into the crease of Bucky’s ass, rubbing off between his cheeks with a very singular purpose. 

Bucky scrabbles to grab hold of his pillow and drags it down, wedging it under his hips with as much success as can be expected when you’re being pinned by a 200lb adrenaline-testosterone cocktail. It’s enough though, to very favorably cushion the rub of his dick, and all things considered…this whole thing is working out pretty well for him.

He’s expending precisely zero effort, but the wet glide of Steve’s cock over his hole and the push of Steve’s hips rubbing him into the pillow is very much Doing It for him, and he lets his body go loose and pliant as Steve does all the work for the both of them.

And Steve is putting in work - rocking Bucky into the mattress with a fervor that knocks the breath out of him and sends the headboard careening rhythmically into the wall. 

“Y’hear that, Buck?” Steve pants, not for a second breaking his frankly devastating pace. “That’s what a fuckin’ knock sounds like.” 

“Oh my god.”   

This is exactly how every single day of Bucky’s life should begin. Naked, giddy, cocks enthusiastically rubbing up against holes, and Steve running his mouth like he won’t be turning ten shades of red about it later. 

If this is the payoff, Bucky will bust in on every single shower Steve has for the rest of his life.

“I love you,” he laughs a little breathlessly into the bedding, biting off a moan at the heat coiling low in his belly. 

It’s entirely sincere, and he says it because he means it...but if he also happens to know by now that those words are a direct hit to Steve’s prostate during sex?

That’s just a happy coincidence.

Steve makes a sound like he’s been punched, his thighs twitching and tensing where they’re clamped around Bucky’s hips. 

His breaths are coming sharp and shallow, his movements taking on a frantic edge that betrays exactly how close he is, and Bucky would ask him to slow down, except he really, really doesn’t want him to. 

“I love you, Stevie,” he says again, letting his own building climax bleed into his voice, “love you so much...come on, baby...” 

“Fuck,  Bucky, I...oh...” 

His weight falls forward over Bucky as he comes, and it’s all the shove Bucky needs to tip over the edge with him. 

He spills all over his pillow, burying a moan into the sheets and huffing under the weight of Steve’s body going lax on top of him.   

“Oh my god, Buck,” Steve groans, vaguely awed like it wasn’t his own efforts that just brought them both to sticky ruin, and Bucky reaches a hand back to swat weakly at him. 

“You said it, pal.” 

Steve nuzzles into the crook of his neck, planting breathless kisses against his skin and running his hands over every part of Bucky he can reach. 

It’s so tangible, that shift back to normalcy, back to  Steve.  It always hits Bucky square in the chest, the way he can feel Steve’s edges softening, feel that boisterous energy turn sweet and mellow in the aftermath. 

It’s kind of precious, actually, though Bucky would never phrase it like that to Steve’s face.  

He squirms beneath Steve’s weight, getting himself turned over until he’s on his back beneath him. “Good morning,” he smiles up at Steve softly, running his fingers through the still-damp tufts of his hair. 

Steve sighs happily, letting his eyes drift shut and tilting his head into Bucky’s hand. “Good morning, pervert.” 

“Hey, come on, you know I didn't do that on purpose!  ” Bucky laughs, cupping Steve’s face and kissing him all over his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes, though the smile on his face says Bucky’s doesn’t really have anything to be sorry about. “Guess I can forgive you this one  time.”

“You’re a gracious man.”

Bucky drags him down and kisses him right on his smile, sweet and lazy. When they pull apart, Steve’s got that dopey look on his face like he’s feeling a whole lot of something, and Bucky knows exactly what’s coming before Steve says it.

“Glad you love me, Bucky Barnes.” 

...He knew it was coming, but it still gets him every time. 

“Glad to love you, Steve Rogers.” He feels like he’s glowing a little as he leans up to peck Steve on the tip of his nose. “Now if I’m not mistaken, I owe you a cup of coffee...you’re gonna have to let me up if you want me to follow through on that.” 

“Mm, counter offer - we both go wash off, together, and then I’ll make us breakfast while you handle the coffee?” 

Bucky pretends to consider for a second before he nods, stretching his body out as Steve rolls his weight off him. 

“Agreed.��� He waves a hand in the general direction of the door, shooting Steve a wink and a lopsided grin. “Lead the way, pal. I believe you are intimately familiar with where the shower is.”

#stucky fanfic #stucky au #steve/bucky #stripper!bucky #architect!steve #pwp #sexy shower antics #Post-run Steve can get it

[snarkwrites]

ssw | pietro maximoff; you make my heart beat faster. [ suggestive ]

Notes:

Okay, so.. This is kind of a follow up to the one shot I wrote a few months ago, happy birthday. So this picks up the next day. Idk where this idea came from or if it even makes sense when read immediately after that one, but ah well. My brain kept nagging at me to write the thing so I wrote the thing.

[ happy birthday ] for those who haven't read it already.

The translation: ty chuvstvuyesh', chto delayesh' so mnoy, kotenok = "do you feel what you're doing to me, kitten?" loosely via Google translate.

Prompts:

taken from either [ HERE ] or [ HERE ] give or take. It could be one or the other or a mix of both at my own choosing.

the daydream of him inside you // seeing the bulge in his pants // you make my heart beat faster. - those were all the prompts / inspiration used to write this.

Fandom / Character:

MCU / Pietro Maximoff x Barton!OFC, Nicola.

Other Writing Nicola / Pietro can be found in:

[ happy birthday ] + several other oooold posts way back on the blog I think. I wanna write a fic for them one day. We shall see, though.

Warnings:

[ NSFW. Absolutely no minors.] If you're underage, this was not written for you -nor should you be reading it. If you choose to keep reading, this is strictly a you problem. I can't do anything about it. I warned you.

Things you need to be warned about before reading: implied sexual encounter.

Yes. I realize that I don't go full into writing out the scene. But there's enough here that anyone underage has zero business reading it. So, I'm warning you guys now.

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@micolegg

@mrsstevenbuchananstark

Other Stuff:

[ ABOUT MY WRITING | TAG LIST DOC - IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, THAT IS. ]

“Are you feeling okay? You’ve barely touched your food, Nicola.”

My mom’s concerned question cut through my thoughts and I made myself smile, nodding. Taking a bite as I replied through a mouthful, “I’m fine. Was just thinking. That’s all.”

“About?” my mom eyed me expectantly. Hints of an amused smile played at her lips. I hesitated for a moment. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost swear that somehow she knew something was up.

,, would it be a stretch to think so? One, she is my mom and two, I’ve been acting skittish and just plain out of it all damn day...” the thought came and as quickly as it did, I shoved it down in the depths of my brain.

I shrugged. “ Nothing in particular.” I gave the vaguest answer I could come up with. If she had one tenth of a clue what I’d really been thinking about just now, I’m honestly not sure how she’d react to it.

I’d been replaying last night over and over again in my mind all day. Every single part of me was dying to ask Pietro if it meant anything or not but at the same time, every single part of me was also scared to death to do that very thing. The one or two times we’d been alone with each other today and I did try, the words got stuck in my throat. And he wasn’t behaving any differently than he normally did, so I kind of just… Let it go. Started to convince myself that making the two of us love the night before was just a one time thing. As my best friend Simone would put it, “Sometimes, you just need to scratch that itch.”

The whole problem with her theory is that even now, having scratched this particular itch.. I wanted to do it again. And again.

I wanted so much more than that too. The brief glimpse I’d gotten of Pietro beneath the sarcasm and the flirty swagger the night before completely did me in. I’d gone from trying hard to keep him at arms length to falling head over feet in love with him and knowing this drove me crazy.

I felt someone staring at me.

I looked up just as Pietro was looking down. Pouting to myself a little, I reached out to grab the spoon in the bowl of mashed potatoes to scoop another serving onto my plate. Pietro reached for the spoon at the same time and when our hands brushed, I felt this little jolt.

He moved his hand but not until he’d let it linger against mine for a second or two. His gaze not leaving mine for the entirety of it. Under the table, my thighs clenched tight. I could see his hands all over me again in my head. Feel his cock buried deep inside me.

I went from a little wet to full on soaked between the mental imagery and the brush of his hand against mine. My stomach coiled.

My body tensed a little.

I dropped my gaze first, busying myself with putting more potatoes on my plate. Pietro kept watching me.

My parents were talking at the head of the table as my mom fed Nathaniel some smushed peas and carrots... My little sister scarfed down her food and then shot out of her chair and out the backdoor to go play a game of tag with my brother in the backyard before it got to dark to play and they had to come inside.

I dared to glance up from shoveling food into my mouth and Pietro gave a teasing wink. Biting his lip as he openly fucked me with his eyes.

And there it went.. The lazy flip flop of my stomach. And no matter what I tried, I couldn’t tear my eyes out of the ocean blue depths of his.

I couldn’t take any more of the torture that was being around him and not having the courage to ask what I was dying to know so I stood and grabbed my plate as soon as I finished eating, making my way into the kitchen to put it in the sink.

I went ahead and washed it while I stood there. I was just drying the plate and about to put it away in the cabinet overhead when I felt Pietro’s muscular body press against me from behind. Wordlessly, he took the plate from my hand and sat it on the top of the stack inside. I turned to face him.

This put us body to body.

I swallowed hard. My mouth opened and closed and for about five or six seconds, I willed myself to say something. Do something.

But I couldn’t bring myself to. Because as much as I was dying to know whether last night was a one time thing or if there was really something between us… Parts of me were scared to death that if I asked, I wouldn’t like the answer.

And that kept me quiet.

Pietro’s hand raised. Reaching out. Brushing strands of hair out of my eyes. I barely restrained a whimper at the touch. His eyes flashed a brighter blue and his head tilted slightly as he stared down at me.

Lost in thought.

His hips pressed into mine harder. When I felt the bulge in his jeans, I took a few shaky breaths. His hand rested on my hip, squeezing. Digging the tips of his fingers into it. He leaned down slightly and his mouth grazed the shell of my ear as he asked, “ty chuvstvuyesh', chto ty delayesh' so mnoy, kotenok?” in a breathless whisper.

If I thought I was wet before, hearing him speak to me in his native tongue had me soaked. Absolutely flooded. The only word I could pick out of whatever he’d asked was kitten. And as usual, when he called me kitten, my heart fluttered just a little more in my chest. He rocked himself into me clumsily and I sucked in a breath.

“Pietro.” I muttered. I was right on the verge of asking him what he’d just said. And asking him about what the night before truly was, if he felt anything or if it just kinda… happened. But just as I thought I’d finally be able to get the words out, it’s like my brain froze up all over again. I frowned at myself in frustration and sighed, shaking my head. “Nothing. It’s silly.”

I heard my dad calling my name from the next room, so I stepped away from Pietro reluctantly and went to leave the kitchen. Pietro grabbed hold of my hips, holding me in place for a few seconds. Staring down at me.

“ I need to talk to you later, kotenok. Alone.”

All I could do was nod. Tell him that I was going to go up to my room in a few minutes.

He nodded.

I stepped away and walked into the next room, only barely managing to pull myself together enough to talk to my parents without either one of them seeming to be aware of just how flustered I truly was.

As soon as I got done talking to my dad, I made my way upstairs. Shutting the door to my room and leaning against it just to hopefully pull myself together.

I still couldn’t.

I flopped across my bed, picking up the Anatomy book and my notebook, preparing to start studying again for the final I had coming up soon and just as I settled into it, there were two knocks at my bedroom door.

I slipped off the bed, wandering over to the door. Opening it.

Pietro leaned in the doorway, gazing down at me. That hungry look in his eyes again.

I stepped out of the doorway and let him into my room, shutting the door behind me. When I turned around to face him, we were body to body. Leaning into me, he put a hand against the door, just above my head. I could feel him straining even harder against his jeans. His other hand raised, resting against the side of my face. Cradling my cheek as he closed the distance between our mouths.

I started out with my palm down. Determined to keep distance between us until I finally worked up the courage to ask my question, hear my dreaded answer and be done, but by the time his tongue slipped past my lips and started to trace my teeth, I was clutching at the front of his fitted black shirt instead. He nipped at my bottom lip, tugging until I felt it swelling under pressure. The kiss deepened until I got so lightheaded I thought I’d melt.

He seemed to sense this because he crushed me against him and the hand cupping my face drifted down. Skimming down my side. Stopping at my hip.

The kiss finally broke so we could breathe and we pulled apart; breathless. Staring at each other quietly. Wide-eyed.

“Kotenok…” he muttered softly. Fondly. His voice dying away as he stared down at me like he was lost in thought. Trying to say something.

“What’s up?” I mumbled, my stomach flipping and flopping lazily.

“Last night was..” he went quiet on me again and I tensed a little, bracing myself for him to continue. Preparing myself in the event that what he was about to say wasn’t what I longed to hear.

So it shocked me when he was closing the distance between our mouths all over again as he muttered in a lust-filled whisper, “Last night was more than just sex. You make me feel things that I haven’t before, kotenok.”

My breath caught in my throat and I didn’t realize it until I finally took a breath and it was shaky. I gazed up at him, letting his words sink in. Trying to wrap my head around it. I went to say something, to tell him that I felt the same way and I didn’t do what we’d done last night often, but he pressed the side of his finger against my lips, silencing me and continued to speak.

“You make my heart beat faster.” he took hold of the hand I had rested against his chest, placing it over his heart. I gasped quietly as I looked up at him again and saw the way he was looking back down at me, a look of pure and total adoration.

He looked nervous as hell. Fidgeting a little. Not quite sure what to do with his hands after he moved one off my hip and let go of my hand with the other. He went to step away, swearing under his breath and I realized that he wanted me to react somehow.

I pressed against him from behind. My hand wrapping around his where it lingered on the knob to my bedroom door. “Don’t go. Please?” I asked in a hushed whisper. Pietro turned around and when he did, I melted against him. Raising my arms to wrap them around his neck. Dragging my fingers through a thick mess of platinum blond. Tugging at it as I rose to tiptoe and crashed my mouth against his. Laughing softly when our noses bumped and our lips connected all over again; hungry. Desperate. Frenzied.

He reached down, twisting the lock on my door knob so that it was locked and no one could come in by accident. A low growl rose up from the depths of his chest, hanging in the air between us only to be swallowed by the kiss as our mouths reconnected and it deepened. I rubbed myself against him clumsily. Needy.

His hands locked across my ass and he slipped me up his body, stepping over to my bed. Dropping me against my mattress softly and positioning himself on top of me. Pressing his hips into mine. Bucking against me as his mouth strayed from my own, working it’s way down the side of my neck. His lips caught on my pulse, making me shiver and rock myself up into him as I gave a needy whine and raised my legs, squeezing his hips with my knees. The kiss broke and he muttered against my mouth with a teasing grin, “ Think you can be quiet for me, kotenok?”

“ I can try.” I whimpered as his mouth worked down the front of my throat, teeth scraping against skin. Stubble tickling me. Making me cling to him as he snapped his hips against me and his hands moved down between us, catching in the hem of my shirt. He pulled me up to a sitting position and pulled my shirt off, tossing it onto my bedroom floor. I tugged at his shirt, whining impatiently and he chuckled. Nipping softly at my bottom lip as he teased, “Patience.”

“Pietro.” I pleaded.

He tugged his shirt over his head, letting it settle on the floor near mine. And then he was leaning in. His hands moving up my sides. Stopping to squeeze my breasts, growling to himself quietly before reaching around. Hooking a thick digit beneath the band of my bra and working the clasps free. He pulled it off, balling it up and tossing it on the floor with the rest of our clothes as he leaned into me even more, my back pressed flat against my bed all over again. He positioned himself on top of me, his body spreading my legs wide and as his head dipped down, my fingers curled in my blanket and thick blond hair.

His mouth worked across my collarbones. Then lower. He squeezed my tits together, mouth diving down. Latching onto one of my nipples. Tongue circling lazily until he’d teased it to a point and I was squirming beneath him, rocking my hips, desperate for any kind of friction I could get. My fingers caught in the waistband of his jeans and I worked the button and the zipper free. He pulled away and slipped off the bed to shed his jeans and underwear and eyed me hungrily. Leaning down. Meeting my gaze with a mischief filled smirk as he took off my pants. Holding my gaze the entire time.

I kicked my pants free at the ankle and he was on top of me again. The tip of his thick cock brushing right against my fabric covered crotch as he bucked into me and muttered against my mouth, “Are you ready for me, kotenok?”

“Please?” I begged breathlessly, barely managing to keep my voice a whisper as I did so. When he smirked at me as if he were pleased with himself, I realized exactly what his goal was.

He wanted to see just how close he could get me to getting loud.

I pouted up at him and he chuckled. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re being a tease. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Oh?” he muttered, his hand disappearing between us. Slipping into my panties. Fingers working me open. Burying deep in my throbbing, wet sex. I arched my back and gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging at it as I rocked against his hand.

It wasn’t enough. I wanted him buried to the hilt inside of me. Now.

But Pietro was in a teasing mood tonight. Something told me that the more I begged, the more he was going to prolong it. And if I didn’t beg? He’d prolong it.

I was absolutely fucked.

One way or another, he was going to have me screaming his name by the end of the night.

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff oneshot #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff one shot #pietro maximoff imagines #pietro maximoff x oc #my writing ; pietro maximoff #my oneshots ; pietro maximoff #my fics ; pietro maximoff #// absolutely no one (0) underage. minors dni. #// implied s*xual content #// i'm warning you guys here so everyone knows... even if it doesn't actually go into great detail.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: I Have Questions ***

Non-Bearded Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, SMUTTTTTT, DO NOT READ AT WORK

Words: 6.k

Summary: Steve is still acclimating to the twenty-first-century. It’s a simple fact that things in 2020 are drastically different than things in the thirties. He’s been doing what he can to learn, but today he has several questions, questions that can’t be answered so easily.

 ***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

 ????????????????????

Steve Rogers was a man out of time; everyone knew it. Everyone knew that because of his Rapunzel like sleep, he was out of his familiar surroundings and plunged into the loud and chaotic 21st century. The century where matters and values were seriously flipped upside down. A time where family, service, and loyalty were all the rave in the thirties. In this modern era, some would debate those values and what really mattered now. Some would say success, others money, while there would be those to say satisfaction on all levels.

 Needless to say, Steve often had questions about the era and how to get on socially. Usually, he’d research, but then he’d end up asking either you or one of the others on the team. He’d learned who to go to for what, though. For questions about modern fighting, he’d seek out Clint and Nat. For his questions on tech, usually, that involved Tony. When he wanted to know more about medicine or math, Bruce came in handy. When he had the few questions about emotions, he’d find Wanda. Sometimes he’d even consult Bucky when he had questions or confusion about women. Those times he didn’t get much help because Bucky was also a man out of time. Yeah, in their time, Bucky was considered “the hot” one and had a lot more experience than he had with the ladies, but in this time, he was just as clueless maybe even a little more thanks to his conditioning to turn him into the Winter Soldier.

When he asked Sam, he’d tell him one thing; then Tony would get in on the mix and make fun of him and give him terrible advice. By the time the men of the team had finished giving advice, he was even more confused. That led you to be the one to offer up your extensive brain to help him out. You’d told him whenever he had a question, you’d be more than happy to answer it, especially if it concerned women or the other hot topic of late sex.

 Since you extended the invitation to be his life coach/twenty-first-century crash course instructor, he’d come at you with some interesting questions. It seemed he had quite a few. Once, he asked what it meant when a woman said “fine” but then acted angry the entire time after she said it. That was a fun one to explain. By the end of you telling him that “fine” was not fine and if that was said he’d already fucked up and his best bet to make it right was accepting whatever he did was wrong, apologizing for it and proceeding to smooth over his faux pas with food. That gave him a good laugh.

 There was another time he asked you why size was so important with women today. That was another fun one to answer. He’d asked you when you were around the team, and it began a whole debate. Nat said size does not matter, and it’s what you can do with what you have. The men called her out loud and proud on the bullshit and proceeded to give their own accounts of why size mattered to women, all the while voicing over the actual women in the room.

 After two hours of the men talking, nothing had been clarified, and you could tell Steve was still confused. You then took him to the side and explained why size mattered to some women while emphasizing that honestly, it wouldn’t matter to the right woman. When he asked you if it mattered to you, you were stumped how to answer. Choosing the careful route, you said size doesn’t hurt, but there are many more important things. A dagger and a sword can do the same thing, but it depends on the owner how it gets the job done. He seemed to like that answer.

You were in the kitchen of the compound that evening, grabbing yourself a snack lost in your own world. Your back was turned, and your headphones turned to their loudest setting. You danced around the kitchen happy to have some much deserved you time. The rest of the team also had the night off and were enjoying their evening outside the compound. You dropped it low and poked your ass out and wound your waist, feeling not an ounce of shame as you shook your ass while blending out the rest of your smoothie.

 Suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulders. Spinning around in your fight pose ready to kick some ass, you saw Steve standing there with his hands held high in surrender. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear him. Realizing you had your headphones on, you pulled one out and began questioning why he was there. You then realized you still couldn’t hear him thanks to the noise from the blender. You reached over and turned it off before looking to him.

 “What’re you doing here, Steve?”

 “Is this your idea of having fun on your night off?”

 You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Are you trying to call me boring, old man?”

 Steve snorted and shook his head. He hated it when you called him that.

 “No plans?” You shrugged and turned back to the counter to fill your waiting tumbler with the pale pink mixture.

 “I didn’t feel like going out. Sometimes a girl just needs a smoothie, quiet and--,” you trailed off before he cut you off.

 “Some time to shake her ass?”

 “Language, Cap.” He smiled again as the two of you gazed at each other for a few more seconds before you looked away.

 “What’re you doing here? I thought you had plans with Sam.”

 “I did,” Steve began before he rubbed the back of his neck and continued. “His plans took him elsewhere.”

 “Like?” Steve gave you a look, and you nodded, fulling understanding.

“Some girl’s apartment got it.”

 “Yeah.”

 “He just left you?”

 “No, no. She had a friend; I went with them back to their apartment.” You turned to him and studied him taking the time to read into his body language.

 “Did something happen with this friend. Steve?”

 He sighed and leaned on the table behind him. “I guess she had it in her mind she was going to—we were going to--,” Steve motioned his hands, hoping you got the gist. Nodding, you took a sip from your smoothie.

 “Okay. I take it that was not in your mind?”

 Steve shook his head. “I mean, she was a pretty girl, not really my type, but I overheard her talking to her friend, and she said something that had me confused.” Steve abruptly stopped what he was saying and changed direction. “I have a question. Well, two or three, really. I remember you said if I ever needed help understanding something to come to you.”

 “Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” you said after taking another gulp of your smoothie. “I’d be happy to help. What is it?”

Steve had a sheepish look on his face before he opened his mouth to speak.

 “Actually, walk with me.” You walked out of the kitchen with your smoothie in hand and Steve on your heels. The path to your room was not a long one. You wanted to be close to the kitchen. Pressing for the elevator, it opened automatically. With you and Steve inside, you pressed the next floor up.

 “Should I just fire them off?”

“Why not.” You smiled, hoping your friendly and easy-going demeanor would encourage him. Steve stared at the door but didn’t speak. When the elevator sounded and opened a few moments later, you walked off, leading him once again.

 A few seconds later, you were in front of your door. Walking inside, you waved your hand to Steve inaudibly inviting him to sit anywhere he liked. He found a seat close to a window as you pulled one up for yourself.

 “Okay. Well, to begin, what’s a G-spot, and how do I use it?” Your jaw dropped. You were on your way to sitting when the words came out, and they had you bolting right back up. He wasn’t finished, though. “What does make the pussy purr mean? Is it an actual cat? Is there a particular way women in this century want to be pleased apart from a kiss here or there, holding hands and a cuddle?”

 Your head was spinning, and your heart was racing. Steve Rogers just said pussy, you thought to yourself. You were utterly speechless. He looked so innocent sitting across from you. Innocence was a good look on him—a sexy look. You had no idea you liked the whole innocent man thing.

 “Y/N,” Steve breeched, snapping you out of your stupor. You coughed and cleared your throat loudly before you took a long sip of your smoothie through the straw and slowly sat down in front of him. It was a sip that went on and on and on as you tried to gather your thoughts.

 “Did I say something wrong?”

 Gulping down your mouthful, you shook your head. “No, no. I’m sorry I was just um—thinking how best to explain this.”

 “Is it hard to get?”

 In order to hide your smirk, you took another sip. “Okay, so—eh-ehm, the G-spot isn’t something that you can use exactly. It is a spot inside a woman.” The confusion on Steve’s face intensified. You went back to sipping your smoothie.

 This was one of those topics that you could explain, but it wouldn’t really register. Normal men couldn’t understand the g-spot, anyway, let alone someone from a time where the g-spot wasn’t even a thing. Rolling your eyes, you groaned then tried again.

 “The g-spot is a bundle of nerves inside a woman’s vagina that is also known as in this time as a pussy.” Steve’s mouth opened as his brows rose. “It’s a few inches in, and it is said to be the most sensitive part of a woman’s anatomy. It is said to bring a lot of pleasure.” Steve remained quiet for several long moments.

 “So how do I use it if it’s inside?” You facepalmed, knowing you were completely screwing this up.

 “So the vagina is the pussy? Why a pussy, though? It doesn’t look like a cat,” Steve logicized.

 You pinched your lips and tried not to laugh. He was right. It was nothing like a cat at all.

 “What about making it purr? I’ve never heard of it making a sound.”

 “Oh sweet baby Jesus,” you croaked out.

 “What about how women today like their pleasure?”

 “How did women in your time like their pleasure?

 “A little kissing here or there, hand-holding, cuddling, sweet whispers,” Steve summarized.

 Wow, you thought, he really was out of time.

 “So today it is a little—a lot different.”

 “How do you like your pleasure?”

 Stumped again, you took another sip of your smoothie and prayed for this to be over. There were two ways to each this lesson, and you were leaning toward option two.

 “Steve, I have to ask you something, and I don’t want you to take offense.”

 “You can ask me anything, Y/N.” you nodded.

 “Are you a virgin? Have you ever been with a woman past kisses here or there, hand-holding, or cuddling?”

 Steve flushed as he looked down. You’d gotten your answer.

 “I haven’t always looked like this. Back then, Bucky was the one to get all the attention. Before anything could happen, the serum happened and all the Captain America stuff. So ashamed to say it, I am a virgin,” Steve quietly admitted.

 You put your smoothie on the floor and wheeled yourself to him to rest your hand on his. “Hey, there is no reason to be ashamed. There is absolutely nothing wrong with virginity. It doesn’t mean something bad, and it is nothing to be embarrassed about. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter.”

 “So, in this time, a man who is a virgin is normal.”

 “No, not normal, but there are some men who have chosen to just not partake. What I’m saying is it’s not a big deal. It won’t stop women from wanting to ride you like a show pony.” Steve smiled, flushed again, and looked down.

 “Does that include you?”

 “Say what?”

 “Are you one of the women who would want to ride me like a show pony, although I have no idea what I’m doing?” He looked vulnerable and even shy. It was endearing to see this gorgeous, strapping, burly tree of a man who was built for every sin in the book be so self-conscious.

 “Steve, you’re an attractive man, and not to mention a pretty great one too. Safe to say my parts wouldn’t mind playing with yours.” You said it half-jokingly while adding in a chuckle or two for emphasis.

 “My parts wouldn’t mind it,” Steve muttered. It was low, but you heard it.

 “I’ve always been a visual learner. Is the same true for you?”

 “Fairly true,” Steve responded.

 Biting your bottom lip, you nodded and stood. “Okay. Stand up.”

 Steve didn’t hesitate before he stood before you with an expression that said he was open for whatever happened.

 “Because these are extreme circumstances, I can teach you the answers to your questions. Only if that is something you’re comfortable with and want,” you cautiously explained.

 “I want you.” It was flat out, straight to the point, and unexpected.

 “You do?”

Steve flushed again and smiled. “If I were honest, I’ve been attracted to you from the beginning.” It was your turn to smile like a shy schoolgirl. Steve then brushed your cheek with the back of his hand and stole your breath away during the process. Wow, you thought. Steve Rogers had game. It was him to lean into you to press his lips to yours softly. Neither of you moved for a few seconds, and then it was you who was shocked when Steve intensified the kiss. You almost snorted on his mouth; Steve Rogers could kiss and not kiss by the nineteen-thirties standards, but by twenty-twenty standards.

 You kissed him back but allowed him to keep the lead. Just because he was a virgin didn’t mean he had to play the cuck. Everything in you said Steve Rogers was an alpha. It was true about everything else, the way he fought, talked, and even operated and moved. Why would it be any different in the bedroom? Though the kiss felt dominating, it still had hints of timidness. He was not sure of himself. You liked it. Lacing your fingers at the back of his head and into his hair, you dipped your tongue into his mouth to slowly coax his. When your tongue wrapped around his and then gently sucked Steve moaned. It was the sexiest sound you’d heard in a long time.

 Slowly you pulled back to look at him, and slowly, he opened his eyes. “Wow can’t believe we’re doing this,” Steve whispered. You smiled.

 “We won’t go too fast, I promise. How about we start with your questions.”

 “G-Spot,” Steve began. Another soft smile teased your lips.

 “We’ll get there. The particular question we’ll start on is if there is a particular way women in this century want to be pleased,” you whispered. Steve audibly gulped. It was the cutest thing.

 “O—okay.” You slid your hands up over his chest, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his muscles underneath his shirt.

 You’d seen Steve shirtless quite a few times. The majority of it was when he was injured and getting patched up before he miraculously healed in record time. Slowly you undid the buttons to his pale-colored striped button-down.

 “When it comes to women in this century, you’ll find you have to trial and error. What works for one woman doesn’t necessarily work for the other. So what works for me--.” Steve cut you off.

 “I only care about what works for you, no others.” Smiling, you placed a mental check next to eager to please. You liked it, that trait would come in handy. Steve bit his bottom lip as you pushed the shirt off his body. You took the time to admire every perfect dip and curve of his frame. He was gorgeous. You allowed your hands to be your second set of eyes and traced his skin.

 “Am I to your liking?”

 Snorting, you shook your head. “You’re to every woman’s liking Steve.”

 “I don’t care about every woman.” He was definitely a sweet talker.

 “You’re hot.” He smiled then licked his lips until he sucked in his bottom one into his mouth. You almost got lost but focused on the mission at hand. You brought your lips to his and took control this time, but only for a few moments before you kissed a path down his chest to his abs. You could feel the nervous energy in his body, and it made you smile.

 Standing again, you looked into his eyes while you began unbuckling his belt and undoing his dockers.

 “Does this—bring you pleasure?” His voice was shaky.

 “Some, plus taking all of this off, increases intimacy. There is nothing like skin on skin contact.”

 Dropping down to the floor, you pulled his pants down to reveal white micro boxer briefs. You were relieved, you had no idea if he were a tidy whities kind of man or boxers, this was a happy medium for you. Standing, Steve did the rest by kicking the material and his shoes to the side.

 “Feeling up to doing me?” you raised your hands above your head and waited for him to decide. Something told you this would be his first time undressing a woman. You wanted him to have the full experience even though it was a t-shirt and sweats he was pulling off.

 When his fingers grazed your abdomen, he hesitated for a brief second before he slowly lifted it up your torso and over your head. When you were free of it, he took in the sight of you in your bra, and you gave him some time to have his fill. When he didn’t move again, you took his hands and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your sweats, encouraging him to discard them as well. Slowly Steve pulled the garment down over your his and your legs. When you felt his lips on your stomach, you gasped. It was an unexpected action.

 “Was that okay?”

 “It was fine.” Steve did it again and again until he’d peppered kisses all across your stomach. The action was so simple, so innocent, but they felt incredible.

 Pulling him up, you pressed your body to his while wrapping your arms around him to kiss him. In a matter of seconds, the kiss had turned into a passionate interlude that had both of you moaning on each other’s lips. When you felt Steve’s hands touch your waist for the first time, you moaned deeply and melted into him. He held you with power. There were so many things that contradicted his virgin status. Both of you got lost in the kiss. The longer it went on, the more invested in it Steve became. Soon he was expertly stealing your breath.

 When you began backing away with him still in your arms, Steve followed you, never breaking the kiss. You felt your bed at the backs of your knees and stopped pulling your lips away. He was flushed and looked very much ready for the next step. Sitting at the edge, you slid back onto it, never taking your eyes off of his. This was when he looked like a fish out of water.

 “It’s okay. Come here.”

 Slowly Steve crawled across to bed to you. As he got closer, you parted your legs, making space for him. When he nestled there, he groaned. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” you smiled your thank you.

 “What do you wanna do?”

 “What? I thought you were shooing me about your pleasure.”

 “I am, but this is a first for you. so, what do you wanna do?”

 He was quiet for a few seconds. “Please you.” you kissed him and snuggled in the bed.

 “I want you to explore. Kiss wherever you’d like, lick what you want, whatever you’d like.”

 “I don’t know if I have the strength,” Steve confessed. Caressing his cheek, you smiled.

 “Let me start you off.” You took his hand and placed it over one of your breasts. His hand was so large that it looked like it belonged on your body. Steve’s eyes dropped to your breast and his hand. It was several long moments before he moved. When he did, he slowly massaged your breast. He took his time to move it in a circle testing it, and getting familiar with the feel of it. Once he did, he squeezed. You moaned.

 “I like these.” You snorted and shook your head.

 “Congratulations, you fit right into the twenty-first century.”  Steve continued exploring your breast and wreaking havoc on your desires at the same time. You were slowly losing your mind.

 “Try two hands.” Steve wasted no time complying with your suggestion. Allowing him to continue his discovery of a woman’s body—your body you tried your best to keep your wants in check.

 When you couldn’t, you moaned loudly. Steve’s eyes shot to yours. “Do you like that?” Nodding your head gave him the needed encouragement to continue.

 “Try taking it off.” Steve studied the bra you wore for a while before he attempted to take it off. When it didn’t come off the first attempt, he pulled at it and ripped it clear off.

 “Oh my, I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

 “It’s okay. I mean you can rip tree stumps in half why did I think my bra had a chance? He smiled before he realized you were bare before him. Any amusement in his face disappeared as he took you in.

 “Wow,” Steve marveled. Before you could say anything, he cupped your breasts and slowly massaged them before he circled his thumb around your hardened nipple. Sucking in a breath, you slightly arched jutting them out more for him. Steve grunted and watched your reaction. When he pinched your nipple, you bit your bottom lip and rolled your eyes closed.

 “Mmm.” It was enough for him because the minute you felt his mouth around your nipple, you whimpered.

 He took his time testing what you liked, testing what he liked. Before long, he had moan after moan and whimper after whimper falling from your lips. He stopped momentarily to pinch your nipples again using the leftover wetness to aid him in bringing you closer to your release.

 “I really like these,” Steve whispered, lowering his lips to your neck. He sucked the flesh into his mouth and found a level of suction that had goosebumps scattering across your skin.

 “Either you’re not such a virgin, or you’re just really good with your mouth.” Steve smiled widely before he shrugged. When he did, he dipped lower to your stomach and kissed a path to the apex of your thighs. Before he made any moves, he looked to you as if for consent.

 “That first question and the one about what it means to make the pussy purr can be answered together. It all depends on if you’re up for it.”

 Steve had a mischievous glint in his eye and a devilish smirk on his lips. Innocent and sinful was a sexy mix for him; it was one that you couldn’t get enough of. “I promised you not too fast,” you finished.

 Steve kissed your hip, then your pelvis, and nipped your skin. “I think I can keep up.” It was a simple response, but it filled you with so much excitement. You didn’t know how this was happening. You were the one who had all the experience. You weren’t an expert in pleasure, but you sure knew how to make a man tick and get yourself off. With him, the smallest action had triple the effect it ever did before.

 “Take em’ off.” If it was possible to see someone’s heart skip a beat, you saw his do just that.

 Steve brought his hands to the waistband of your underwear, but he didn’t touch it or you, instead he allowed them to hover. He looked as if he was having an internal battle. You were sure he was going back and forth with his insecurities and his desires. You didn’t want to rush his decision because it was an important one.

 When he made the decision, his fingers curled around the material and pulled it down a few inches before stopping again. He looked at you, and you saw his anxiety. Wrapping your hands with his, you helped glide the fabric from your waist and down your legs. Once free, you parted your legs for him, giving him the first intimate sight of you.

 Steve looked speechless and enflamed. You laid there, giving him as much time as he needed. He raised his fingers and grazed them against your skin. Sucking in a sharp breath, you bit your finger.

 “You’re fine,” you whispered, answering the question in his eyes.

 “What do I do?”

 “Whatever you want. You can kiss, you can lick, you can suck, nibble—whatever you want, Steve.”

 “What do you like?”

 You smiled and reached down to take his hand to place it between your legs. They were so warm and surprisingly soft. You used two of his fingers to lightly trail against your labia. Slowly you went up, and down the flesh, each pass had you shivering. Steve alternated looking at your face and between your legs, learning your reactions.

 After a few moments, he took control of the movements. Each swipe of his fingers had him coming closer and closer to your sensitive bud that was begging for some attention. You wanted to let him discover it on his own. As soon as you thought it, Steve’s other hand got into the mix. He spread you wide then brought his lips to your skin to kiss your pubis. The anticipation was killing you.

 Steve trailed kisses across your skin, leading to your pelvis and your inner thigh before he returned to the starting point. When his tongue made connection with your clit, you gasped loudly and arched your head back.

 “Was that good?”

 “Jesus, you’re driving me fucking crazy. Yes, that was good.” Steve did it again and watched you clamp down on your bottom lip.

 “So good,” you whispered while watching his every move. Steve crooked his tongue, making a hook at the tip and licked across your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Your hands instinctively flew to his head to keep his mouth where you wanted it.

 Steve took the hint and swirled his tongue around your flesh, all the while steadily increasing his suction. It felt amazing. His actions were less polished and deliberate, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t bringing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. He was finding his rhythm. When he slurped on your sex, you lost your shit and began bucking against his mouth. Steve gripped your hips firmly and got into it. Steve gently bit you, making you flinch but not from pain.

 Did I do--.” Before he could finish the question, you pulled his head back down and continued bucking your hips and swiping your wetness across his lips. Steve kept up and quickly flicked his tongue against you.

 “Fuck!” It was a desperate whimper, one that was the indication you were going to come.

 “Stick your tongue out, Steve.” Doing as he was told, you shamelessly used his beautiful face to find your release. When you felt Steve cup your breast and pinch your nipple, you saw stars and came right on his skillful tongue.

 “Fuuuck! Oh my god,” you groaned out, dropping back to the bed.

 “Jesus, that is—making the pussy—purr.” Steve scoffed and shook his head before he kissed your clit once, then twice. Each time it had you shivering.

 “Any questions?”

 Steve smiled and crept up onto his knees, giving you the perfect view of his hardened length. Super serum or not, you didn’t care. He was blessed.

 “More a comment. You taste incredible.” Your blush was evident.

 “Aw Captain, you know just the right thing to say.” His smile was adorably shy.

 “I think I’ve got it, but there’s still that question about the G-spot.” You smiled; he was like a dog with a bone.

 “Come here, captain.” Steve lowered himself onto you, allowing you to kiss him. Both of you quickly got lost in the kiss yet again. This time his kisses weren’t timid; they were confident, even a little dominating. This man was made for kissing. Using your feet, you peeled off his underwear until he was free to kick them off. You could feel the heaviness of his cock resting against your inner thigh, and it made you want him even more.

 Steve pulled his lips from you and sighed out heavily. “What’s wrong?”

 “Control has always been a thing for me, but with you—right now, I’m struggling,” he admitted.

Caressing his cheek adoringly, you smiled. “You’re not the only one struggling, Steve.” He searched your eyes for any hint of a lie. When he found none, he looked relieved. Nodding, you kissed him again and peeped between your bodies down to what the good Lord blessed him with. He was blessed beyond belief.

 “Is size still not important to you?” You snorted and buried your face in his shoulder. You’d been caught.

 “Nope, I told you, a dagger and a sword do the same thing.” You reached between you and wrapped your hand around his length. Once you touched him, Steve’s eyes closed, and he sighed out. Slowly you stroked him and watched his every reaction. Your hand couldn’t fully fit around him. There were still about two inches of him left. You wondered if he’d done this for himself since he’d woken from his cryo state.

 “How do you like it, Steve?” His eyes fluttered open, but he didn’t speak, he stared deeply into your eyes as the muscles in his jaw jumped. It was then he took your hand from him and pressed it to the bed.

 “Maybe another time.” You found it interesting, but you didn’t take offense. You knew there was more to it than “another time.” His eyes roamed over your naked body before they stopped between your legs where his cock hovered right before its prize.

 “Take what you want, Steve,” you teased.

 When you felt him at your opening, you took a deep breath and held it. You bit your bottom lip to brace yourself and watched him slide the first few inches inside your wet heat. Steve moaned out, but it quickly turned to a groan that blended with yours. He was bigger than you’d ever had, but you didn’t want to let on that you worried he was too big. The more he eased into you, the louder he got, and the louder he got, the closer you were to falling apart. Steve’s hands were planted into the mattress, giving you a mind-numbing view of those strong muscles in his arms shoulders and chest. You could never get tired of this view, you thought.

 Steve grunted and dropped his head to your breasts, burying his face between them. “You’re so—it’s so—you’re--.” He sounded like he was barely hanging on. Both of you stilled and allowed several long moments to pass as you adjusted to the new sensations. Steve slowly pulled back, but your body must have felt as if it were losing him, and you clenched around his length. Steve growled loudly, stopped his retreat, and slammed into you, fully connecting your bodies. You screamed out from shock, pain, and pleasure. It was familiar, but it was also unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

 “Fuck!” It was loud and full of emotion.

 Shocked, you looked clenched around him again. Curse words from Captain America was the best thing in the world and the only aphrodisiac a woman needed.

 “Jesus, Y/N, don’t do that. I’m barely hanging on by a thread here,” Steve grunted against your skin.

 “Sorry.” Slowly Steve pulled out of you and sank back in only to do it again. Every time he connected your bodies, he shuddered.

 When he looked at you again, you could see just how close he was. “How do—you like—it?” He spoke through gritted teeth.

 “Any way you give it to me,” you responded, emphasizing you, so he understood. He crashed his lips to yours and took full control. When his hands gripped your wrists and pressed them above your head, you clenched around him again because of the strong alpha vibes he was giving off.

 Steve hissed out, but his thrusts sped to a pace you were not ready for. His pace sent your breasts swinging and had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Suddenly you felt him nudge that spot he was so curious about, and you screeched out. Steve slowed and looked at you. He must have known it. He mercilessly did it again and again until your legs were wrapped so tightly around him that they mirrored how tightly you clenched his thick length within you. Steve grunted with each slam of his hips into your core, and it was then you came gripping him hard.

 “Aaah!” You felt his release; it was a release that seemed to go on forever. He thrust forward, still trying to bury himself deep within you even when there was nowhere else for him to go. Each movement sent you further over that edge.

 Steve collapsed on top of you and sucked your nipple into his mouth. If he continued doing that, you would be ready for round two in seconds. As you thought about round two, you realized he was still hard.

 “I’m sorry that was so quick. I didn’t--.” You pulled his face to yours and kissed him passionately, so he knew just what he’d done to you.

 “That was amazing. You are amazing for a man that is one hundred years old.” Steve snorted and groaned, dropping his forehead to your chest again.

 “Mmmm, plus, I don’t think not so little Steve is finished yet.” Steve looked back to you with his eyebrow crooked, giving you a spark to jumpstart your arousal.

 “Did I answer all your questions?”

 Steve smiled widely again before he pulled a few inches out of you to slowly slide himself back in with a languid groan. “Well, I how to please the only woman I care about, just how to use that g-spot and how to make your pussy purr,” Steve began. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It was going to take some getting used to hearing him speak like this.

 “I know all of this, but shit, I wanna know more.”

 Your jaw dropped. “Language, Cap! My goodness, who knew you had such a dirty mouth.” Steve smiled again and kissed you.

 “Must be the company I keep, such a bad influence,” he teased as he kissed down to your neck.

 “Oh really, little ol me corrupting you?”

 “Mm-hm.” Steve was only half listening as he briefly lowered his lips to your breasts before he was on the move again, making his way to the place you suspected would become his favorite place in the world.

 “Did you pee?”

 Scoffing, you shook your head and tried to figure out how to explain and teach him about squirting. “Nope, it’s not pee.”

 The look on his face was a curious one, and you knew this was going to be yet another lesson he would love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you guys for reading!❤️❤️

#i have questions one shot #Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x black reader

[marlasomething]

A Tight Weird Family 4: Daisy

Last October I wrote a TMA fic and posted it on AO3. However, I know it is veeeery long and only two chapters so…I decided to repost it on Tumblr chopping it off per character.

I poured my heart into this tale that I wrote because TMA, as silly as it might perhaps sound, helped me to actually be FAR MORE BETTER now at all levels that I was before I discovered it and…I cannot be thankful enough.

This takes place in my main AO3 TMA AU universe, but can be read separately (just: they brought their consciences back in time and had created a completely alternative timeline, the Institute now also serve as a refuge for runnaway kids because I have issues and Gerry is alive because I love him too much).

This is dedicated to Nadia and Paloma, thank you for  being there and indulging all my writing.

Characters in this chapter: Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner, some random people (for now)

TW: swearing, mentions of police brutality and general violent tendencies, trauma, death

Words: 1232

Previous chapter: Sasha

Next chapter: Gerry

Daisy almost broke her phone as she hung up the fifth call of the day from one of her former colleagues, all using Christmas Eve as an excuse to give her conversation and discover whether she was going to speak about their… doubtful ethical practices with anyone that could bring about any sort of repercussions to The Force now that she had gotten out.

Fucking cowards; she thought. They were morons, too. How on Earth did they think Basira and her had had it so easy to resign without much justification or the appropriate time of previous notification if it wasn’t by some good old-fashioned blackmail?

She wasn’t proud of it; she knew Basira wasn’t either but…they needed out. Daisy in particular, in she wanted not to become even more of...

She didn’t recall much of their previous timeline between the other hunters’ attack and getting shot by Basira and, for an instance, finding herself trapped on a form that didn’t match her… No, that shouldn’t match her and, yet, had done so just perfectly.

However, she knew it had been bad, worse than ever before; nothing of the part of her worth anything left. The feelings, though…those she remembered with absolute clarity.

She had enjoyed it. She had loved it. The only thing she hadn’t enjoyed (to put it in words somehow) was the absence of Basira right by her side, and she almost got it by the end… It was terrifying to imagine doing something like that to the only person she had truly cared about for a very long time, willingly wanting her to turn into an equal monster to the one you had finally embraced...

Just as it was horrifying realising that, given the right context, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t do it all over again.

She didn’t want to; she wanted to try to be better. To not be a monster.

And, deep down, she knew the core of it all had little to do with The Hunt itself. It had just used what was already there, as so many other parasites do.

She contemplated calling or texting Basira about their former workmates, but she knew she was attending some important business today. She didn’t know the details, but she knew she wasn’t exactly comfortable speaking about them, and she didn’t want to push.

She was tired of pushing.

She caught her own reflection on a window and felt…rather small. When they were all somehow brought back to their former selves, she had found herself again in the ultra-trained slightly overly-human-strengthened body she had had when she had still been a cop. For an instance, she wanted to get rid of herself. Burn her own flesh if needed.

On the one side, it had been a relief to find a human anatomy, regular teeth, regular-sized limbs, not more hair than the regularly human-expected... It had been a welcomed change (that, and being alive again in general; that had been a fucking awesome change).

But, on the other side…This had been the Daisy she was still struggling to discover how she really felt about, the Daisy that had scared Jon so much ¡that he would have rather faced actual horrendous monsters than gone back to that time she almost killed him and not-so-almost Michael Crew.

Crew…she wondered; what was he be doing right now? Maybe she could track him…

Shut it; she growled to herself, she couldn’t give in.

She went back to the reflection on the mirror; the few months away from the Police, not feeding the Hunt as she had previously done, added to the fact that now she just exercised like a normal person instead of almost as a professional trained killer (she knew most of her new people would argue that was exactly was she was, but she wasn’t just there to admit it, out-loud or to herself) had made the extra-height and shoulder-width she hadn’t even notice before she had gained through her years at the security forces disappear, and her general appearance was thinner and softer. For a regular person, she would still look quite intimidating, but for her…

She found for the second time in less than five minutes fighting against herself; a voice that sounded just like she had used to telling her what a pathetic insult to her previous self she had become.

At least, I am not as bad as after that…

She struggled just picturing the letters that formed the word coffin in her head.

“So much to unpack…” she started muttering; this time actually vocalising, trying to make herself feel more real, more grounded.  She shouldn’t have stayed alone after the first two calls, she should have seen the pattern, she should have anticipated how much it was going to affect her, now that she was so pathetically weak…

…something interrupted her thoughts, as she saw two figures approaching her on the window.

She turned.

A couple, clearly disgustingly rich, was looking doing at her as if she was some, well, lesser dog.

If there was something she was actually proud about her time in the Police was how rude and aggressive she had been with every single rich stuck-up person that had come in with some nonsensical complain and/or request. She hated all those entitled bastards, from the first to the last of them (of course, this generalization had cost some serious aggravations in the life of people that had actually had serious matters to report and were badly dismissed…but she was not ready yet to open that particular door in her memories).

“Who the fuck are you? The Institute is closed, is bloody Christmas Eve” at their more than slightly scared expressions, she grimaced.

I still got it. She thought, proudly. As she feasted without even noticing for a second in the primordial fear to her predatory attitude, completely forgetting her previous concerns.

However, the woman reacted in a way she didn’t expect.

She slapped her husband (she supposed that much) whom, she realised then, was carrying a trolley with…a creepy looking baby, firmly staring at her, their eyes twitching from one colour to another, from one moment to the next.

As she looked at the child, she felt weaker again; as if they had fought and won against their own fears.

“What the…?” she didn’t know what she referred exactly, anything of the situation, actually.

“No time to explain to you.  Those are The Archivist’s office? Uh, changed places from Gertrude’s….”

She approached Sasha’s office and Daisy felt herself grew overprotective; of all the new people in her life, she believed Sasha was one of her favourites.

She guessed it was partially because she hadn’t had to deal with her before, but she didn’t really care much for the reason. She just liked the woman.

“You cannot enter there.”

She couldn’t describe precisely what happened next…

The woman took something from inside her locket, which seemed to be a folded piece of paper, stared at in for a moment and, before she could help it, she was moving away so they could enter freely.

Fuck fuck fuck.

At least, she knew who to look for.

If the couple were using cursed texts to help their way to get whatever they wanted, there was one person on The Institute that could be just perfect for assistance.

And she knew just where to find him.

#jmart #wtgfs #sasha/tim #future!dasira #martin blackwood #georgie barker #sasha james #alice daisy tonner #gerard keay #basira hussain #tim stoker #melanie king #jonathan sims #original female character #original male character #original child character #original human character #original avatar character #the admiral #time travel fix-it #christmas-y #self-indulgent #pro-therapy #dysfunctional family #found family #the author regrets nothing #kid fic #cat person writer #statement-ish fragments #projecting

[trackmymood]

Media I Consumed in 2021 (TV/Movies -- Netflix Edition)

The Great British Baking Show: Collection 9 -- still watching with Alyssa, the german guy with the unmoanable name is on this one

Money, Explained: Limited Series: "Credit Cards" -- just tryna scam the system

The Holiday -- it was ok, needed a bit more jack black

You: Season 1: "Pilot" -- alyssa couldn't get over the absurdity of lying about the non-existent 6 train stop at York Avenue, it wasn't really calling out to me besides the public hype

tick, tick...BOOM! -- stellar, sobbed, soundtrack on repeat, want a cages or wings tattoo of a young version of myself holding a finger up with a sparrow perched on it; vanessa hudgens

Cowboy Bebop: Season 1: "Asteroid Blues" -- every so often i try to get into this anime and I'll watch like 3 episodes but it's not clicking. came back because of the live action hype

Explained: Season 3: "Fairy Tales" -- background noise

Explained: Season 3: "Time" -- background noise

I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson: Season 2 -- this show is really fucking funny, binged

School of Rock -- great amount of jack black, comfort movie

Hall Pass -- had never seen it, was on netflix recommended

Project X -- great movie, very hype, ends in disaster and i love it

Seinfeld: Season 5 -- background noise

The Circle: Season 3 -- actually did not care for this season, didn't finish it, i think i'm over the gimick

Sex Education: Season 3 -- fantastic, can't wait for season 4, binged

Explained: Season 3: "Apologies" -- background noise

Explained: Season 3: "The End of Oil" -- background noise

DEATH NOTE: Death Note: "Rebirth" -- alyssa and i started watching this and it was kinda funny but also kinda disturbing some of the artwork for some of the characters

Untold: Malice at the Palace -- alyssa convinced me to watch this with her, was hesitant cuz i don't really like sports but it kept my attention!

Dating Around: Season 2 -- cringe city, love it but not revisiting

Cooked with Cannabis: Season 1: "Global Eats" -- seemed like a fun idea and it just didn't catch with me

Explained: Season 3: "Sugar" -- background noise

Never Have I Ever: Season 2 -- did not finish

Never Have I Ever: Season 1 -- thought i would do a rewatch, only saw one or 2

I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson: Season 1 -- season 2 is superior

Grey's Anatomy: Season 3: "Time Has Come Today" -- alyssa might have put this on to show me a particular scene, or i had the momentary urge to catch up that did not progress

We the People: Season 1: "The Three Branches of Government" -- v much executive produced by the obamas/people who find hamilton to be earnestly radical, not my cup of tea

Baewatch: Parental Guidance: Season 1: "Kayleigh & Andy" -- super embarassing, grandmother/daughter put hidden cameras in their granddaughter/sister's hotel room and spy on her having a getaway with her boyfriend, very uncomfortable

Have a Good Trip: Adventures in Psychedelics -- background noise

This Is Pop: Season 1: "Auto-Tune" -- watched for the T-Pain episode, learned usher was a dick to him

Fresh, Fried & Crispy: Season 1 -- wtf is this

The World's Most Amazing Vacation Rentals: Season 1 -- one of those things i put on when me and mom would eat dinner and we couldn't stand the silence but needed SOMETHING but weren't actively watching anything together

Manifest: Season 1: "Pilot" -- terrible writing and silly premise

Sweet Tooth: Season 1: "Sorry About All the Dead People" -- wtf is this

Bo Burnham: Inside -- love Bo, made me sad and kind of anxious, very good

Survivor: Season 20: Heroes vs Villains: "It's Getting The Best of Me" -- i don't think we finished this

The Get Down: Part 1: "Where There Is Ruin, There Is Hope for a Treasure" -- background noise

Are You the One?: Season 1: "You Can’t Handle the Truth" -- didn't care about it

Explained: Season 1: "K-Pop" -- background noise

Explained: Season 1: "Extraterrestrial Life" -- background noise

Horsin' Around -- wtf is this

Tuca & Bertie: Season 1: "The Sugar Bowl" -- saw an episode and really WANTED to like this but i think it's cuz of peer pressure, not my cup of tea

Shadow and Bone: Season 1: "Show Me Who You Are" -- alyssa and I saw 5 episodes but we never finished it! it was good, filled a hole after binging all of the hunger games

In Our Mothers' Gardens -- background noise

Money, Explained: Limited Series -- background noise, remembered the credit card one ⊘

Rotten: Season 2: "The Avocado War" -- put this on randomly, i think about the avocado cartels every time i see an avocado now

The Game Changers -- had to look this up to remember it's that doc about plant based diets and how even athletes would benefit... kind of bro-y

Explained: Season 1: "Cricket" -- background noise

The Trial of the Chicago 7 -- very good movie! jeremy strong was in this apparently lol sacha baron cohen was really good

The Circle: Season 2 -- the right person won this! last good circle season

Accepted -- classic early 2000s movie, don't think i finished it but put it on for background nostalgia sound

The Half Of It -- really great coming of age movie!

The Great British Baking Show: Collection 5 -- background noise

Bad Trip -- i started to watch this and it was kinda funny at times but not Good

Yasuke: Season 1: "Ronin" -- wtf is this?? i really seem to try and get into anime every so often

If Anything Happens I Love You -- a short, it wrecked me

Superbad -- love this dumb movie

Marriage or Mortgage: Season 1: "A Second Chance" -- dumbass show where most everyone picks marriage, good for the hate-watch factor

Coded Bias -- i watched this but can't remember it

Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution -- really cool doc with a lot of footage from the 70s and contemporary interviews w people from that time

Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey -- didn't watch, clicked it cuz a friend's boss wrote it

The Last Blockbuster -- enjoyed this, i hope they never close

A Love Song for Latasha -- made me very sad

Operation Varsity Blues: The College Admissions Scandal -- messy as fuck documentary, somewhere in between succession and the fyre festival docs

Tiffany Haddish Presents: They Ready: Season 2 -- enjoyed all the comics, but don't follow any of them now

The Big Family Cooking Showdown: Season 2 -- watched a few episodes with mom but didn't finish

The Final Table: Season 1: "The Finale" -- enjoyed this bougie cooking comp

Ink Master: Season 1: "Fresh Meat" -- watched an episode thinking i'd get really into it but i didn't care too much

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Don’t Forget Me

Art in banner done by me.

College Life / Mermaid / Kimi no Na wa (Your Name) inspired AU

It’s all nothing but a dream. A series of dreams that are all too real. That’s all it is. Your soul - or whatever it was - couldn’t possibly be swapping places with a Merman. One, mermaids aren’t real. Two, that’s not even possible! Is it? 

Mermaid!Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Human Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Don’t Forget Me tag. 

Genre: Romance / Angst Story 

Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Interspecies Sex (merman / human), Masturbation, Alcohol, Animal death / hunting (whales, fish, sharks, etc), Cursing, Descriptions of Injuries and Blood 

A/N: This is my part for the @bnhabookclub weekly collab event Just Add Water for MerMay! I know there isn’t much going on in this, but it’s just the first chapter to a new multichapter fic. Per the rules of the collab, I used the prompt “That’s just an urban legend”. I’m excited, because I’ve wanted to do a Mer!Bakugou x reader for a LONG time and could never think of anything. But when this theme was announced, I was watching Kimi no Na wa and immediately had this idea. So, full disclosure, the theme of switching bodies in their sleep / forgetting each other is inspired by that movie, but that is all that I take away from it. 

Prologue: Stone

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing

Words:  1,855

You were doing it again. 

How many times had you caught yourself staring at the delicate necklace in your hands? More than you could probably count on all your fingers and toes, and you were sure that number had nearly doubled just in the last week. You really weren’t sure why you were drawn to it so intensely, nor why it gave you such a deep sense of loss and loneliness. 

Where had you gotten it from? 

You couldn’t remember. In truth, you couldn’t remember getting it at all. As far as you could recollect, it had been around your neck when you woke up one morning, about two months ago. Since then, you refused to go a day without it, even if it didn’t necessarily match your outfit or any particular occasion. You felt so lost without it around your neck, like a part of you was away, off in some distant land or deep within the sea. 

Why did you think that? 

Of all things, why would you assume that this missing part of you was in the ocean? Was it because of the necklace? Probably. The silver clam shaped pendant that rested in your palm was most likely the culprit to make you think of the sea. But that particular piece of the jewelry wasn’t what kept you so entranced. Set in the middle was a small, perfectly round stone, and its brilliance is what you couldn’t help but stare into. To anyone else, it would just appear to be a small marble, with brilliant deep indigo, swirling turquoise and hints of radiant purples. There were sparkles of twinkling white, like light reflecting off a water's surface, and if you gazed into it long enough, you could have sworn that the colors were mixing and twisting, as if there truly was water inside the stone. 

It was so beautiful. Had someone given it to you? Whoever did must have cared about you so deeply to give you something so special. You had asked all your friends and family if they knew anything about how you got it, but no one knew anything. You received some weird looks and uncomfortable responses when you tried to ask them, but that didn’t bother you much, not when you had been dealing with people finding you strange for almost half a year now, anyway. 

Why did they find you weird again? You couldn’t remember.

All you knew was that it had to do with this necklace. You had tried to find out what it was made of to try and get any hints on where it may have come from, but each jewelry store or stone expert you took it to, they all had the same response. They just didn’t know. Many offered to buy it from you at varying prices, their interest peaked and their hopes of being the first person to discover a new stone pushing them forward. But you resisted, as just even letting it out of your hands so they could look at it enough to make you nearly burst into tears. You couldn’t let it go and you wouldn’t, either. Not ever. Not for anything. 

Because it was precious. It was the only thing that you had that could help to calm this nearly unending sense of longing. 

But what was it you were longing for? 

Or who? 

Why did that always pop up in your mind? There were so many pieces of scattered thoughts that you just couldn’t put together. A person. The sea. Feeling like a piece of you was missing. You wanted these feelings to end, but you knew that they wouldn’t, not until you found what you were searching for. 

With a frustrated sigh, you put the necklace back on around your neck, clasping it in place with skilled fingers. Standing from your bed, you shuffled your way towards your desk, lightly running your fingers down along the slender metal chain. Your mind was still in a hazy grip of sleep, barely registering that the electronic clock mostly hidden by books and other stationary read 5:49 AM, though that didn’t really matter. Your mind was racing with the overbearing thoughts, and as you sat down in your squeaky office chair, you were already near breaking out into tears.

The necklace wasn’t the only clue you had. Scattered among the desk were notebooks and papers, though you had refused to touch them for the last few weeks. At first, you had meticulously looked over every page and every written note, trying to do everything you could to learn about who this person was that you were missing. But now they sat on your desk, abandoned in defeat. There were many things in the notes that didn’t make sense to you now, though according to what you had written, you had understood it all at one point. 

What you had written. 

That was what was the most odd. There were two very distinct handwritings within the notebooks and scribbled on the scrap pieces of paper or sticky notes. Yours was so proper and easy to read, clean and steady. The other was rough with some of the characters almost completely illegible, requiring you to assume what the person writing must have been trying to say. Large and scratchy, it almost resembled the handwriting of a child or what you assume would be someone new to writing on paper. The phrases. The choice of words. All of it was completely different from yours. 

It had been another person. Someone sat in your chair, in your room, and wrote these messages to you. At first, you thought that it just had to be a prank. One of your friends was fucking with you. That was the only realistic solution. But none of them talked this way, and if you were honest, they weren’t exactly clever enough to pull off such a big ordeal over months and months. 

The way they talked… It was so strange. You just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and if you were honest, you thought that they must have been a little crazy. Yet, you weren’t all that rattled in most of your responses, like you knew what they had been saying to be the truth. 

The conversations were so… natural. In fact, most of it was like a diary, with the scratchy handwriting cataloging what had happened that day, how they felt about it, and what they had done. 

This school shit that you humans do is so stupid and pointless. Who the fuck needs to know about… what is it called? Calculus? You’re never going to use that shit, I’m not bothering with keeping up with it, fuck that. You always catch up on your own anyway. That bitch Midoriya or whatever gave you some fucking flowers today. I thought about stomping on them and telling him to fuck off, but I just took them and left. You need to tell that prick you’re not into him or this shit will never stop. Also, the way you humans handle courtship is fucked. I didn’t do shit today otherwise. Just stayed in the room. I did find your sketchbook though. You’re getting better, but you still can’t remember us for shit. 

Pulling your eyes up from the paper, they immediately landed on the mentioned sketchbook, which was tucked up beneath some schoolbooks. Carefully, you pulled it out, setting it down on the pile of papers to thumb through it. 

It had been so long since you had even opened this thing. The feeling of the coarse paper beneath your fingertips brought a small smile to your face, as did seeing all your old sketches and doodles. Though, the smile faded as you reached near the middle of the sketchbook, your eyes tearing up immediately at the contents of the page. The page was completely covered in drawings of what looked to be mermaids, or mermen, to be more accurate. They were mostly faceless and unidentifiable, the sketches geared more towards poses and anatomy. The only thing mostly consistent was the tail. It seemed to be the same over all the drawings, with matching fins and scribbled patterns. 

“Mermaids… I’ve never cared to draw them before, why did I…?” 

After another turn of the page, you were met with similar things, only this time they had heads and hair, jewelry, pieces of clothing, and even weapons. Only one of the sketches resembled the previous drawings, and his particular features called to you. The feeling of recognition and longing grew fiercer with another turn of the page, which was all nothing but sketches of that particular merman’s head with varying expressions and positions. He was particularly attractive, with slanted piercing eyes and a mass of fluffy spiked hair on his head. He had fin-like ears that were mostly drooped, but flared out on the drawings with a more intense expression, where his mouth was open in a yell or intense fanged snarl. 

A small gasp left your lips as a drop of liquid suddenly landed onto the paper, pulling you out of your daze. Crying? Why were you crying? Why did your heart feel like it was about to be ripped from your chest? It wasn’t possible for this to be the man that you had been longing for. You had drawn him as a mermaid! They weren’t real, and there was no way that was possible. He couldn’t even get into your room, let alone sit in your chair and write you letters. 

“I’m so ridiculous…” You whispered quietly to yourself, wiping the tears from your flushed cheeks. Had you been blushing? You didn’t even notice. “Mermaids… That’s just an urban legend. A myth. I must have just been in a phase… Maybe I saw a movie or an anime with them, and I got super invested? But then… they’re so…” 

Page after page, more sketches followed, some making you giggle while others made your chest ache so badly you thought you would pass out. But then, there was something scribbled onto a page that made your entire body grow cold, stomach twisting into such a tight knot you were sure that you’d vomit. 

Save me. 

“Save… Save you?” You choked out into the silent room with a trembling voice, more tears cascading down your cheeks as you reached up to grip the pendant around your neck tightly. It was in the familiar scratchy handwriting, though it was more frantic and messy than you had ever seen. Hiccupping, you brought the pendant up to your lips, pressing the stone against them as you struggled to calm yourself. 

Save you from what? What the hell happened? Did I save you? Why the hell can’t I remember!

It was then that you felt an odd pulsing against your lips, and as you pulled away in shock, your teary gaze was locked onto the pendant in your hands, which was pulsing slowly with a pale green glow. And with it came a thought, like a soft voice whispering in your ear that you couldn’t ignore. 

He’s calling to me… 

#bnhabookclub #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #personal #collab #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #mermay #Merman!Bakugou #mermaid au #mer!bakugou

[writing-by-mimi]

Season

Fandom: Obey me!

Pairing: GN!MC x Lucifer

Chapter:  4 of 9

Summary: An Alpha Avatar of Pride makes a thrilling discovery.

"Lord Daivolo will be with you shortly." Barbatos bowed again, closing the door behind himself.

Sitting down, you let out a sigh. Being called alone and not for any particular reason made you nervous. Usually if it was to chat or talk about how you were doing in the exchange program, he told you.

Bouncing your leg you decided to get your D.D.D. out to pass the time.

---

"Oh my Devildom." Diavolo looked to Lucifer. "You're right. I can smell them from here. How long have they smelled like this?" The prince let out a moan rubbing a hand down his face.

The door opened to reveal Barbatos. "Mc has arrived. They are waiting in your office, My Lord."

"I know that already. Thank you Barbatos." Diavolo sighed looking at the door that joined this room to his office.

"It seems they have no idea what is in store for them. They also don't seem to remember the class they took at the beginning of the semester about 'Anatomy and Social Behavior', as they scented me on the way here."

Lucifer was again growing agitated. It had been mere hours ago since he had seen them, and they were openly scenting Barbatos of all people. Were they just scenting everyone? Although, they had every right too. Especially after what they had seen.

"It also seems that Asmodeus may have suspected, or has very good timing. He regularly chooses what Mc uses in the bath. From the description Mc gave me, they have been using Omega scent blocking products."

"That could be why they flew under the radar so long. With how they smell, this has been happening for days." Diavolo shook his head. "Mc smells quite pleasant. Even with the scent blockers. I trust you had no trouble on the way over?"

"None, My Lord. Some prying eyes, some obvious moves to scent them, but I took care of it. Mc was none the wiser."

The growl that accompanied Lucifers clenching fist did not go unnoticed. Letting out a deep breathe from his nose, he tried to clear Mcs scent from his head. It was proving impossible. "If Asmo truly knew, I don't think its something he could have kept quiet about. He would want to celebrate an 'Omega flowering' as he calls it."

"He is the Avatar of Lust. Perhaps he subconsciously picked it up, and the soaps were an unconscious decision to protect them?"

"Anything is possible, Barbatos. Mc has proven that. They are mortal, yet they are days away from coming into....'Omega hood.'" Diavolo cleared his throat. Between keeping his own arousal in check and the awkward situation. He wasn't sure how today was going to play out. He sure as shit didnt expect to have to talk to his exchange student about sex and everything that came with it... Had they had the... 'the talk' in the human world? Surely Mc was not an awkward virgin, unaware of everything? Letting out another sigh he did his best to stay focused.

"Perhaps their heritage is at play, Sir?"

"Oh my fuck. That's it Barbatos!" Diavolo turned to Lucifer quickly. "They are NOT just mortal. Granted it may be a few thousand generations back, and I mean way back. They are a descendant of Lilith. While I made her human, so she could continue to live, there would always be a part of her that was an angel. That's what got passed on."

"Which would make them not a full mortal. But just enough angel for it to count." Lucifer grunted. "No matter how many thousand of years, it's a trait that would most likely get passed along, paired right along the human side. No matter how weak, it would remain."

"Exactly. We all knew that they were a descendant. Far far far down the line...we just didn't credit Mc as being part angel themselves. We thought them to far removed for it to matter."

"Well, apparently it does." Lucifers deep voice was strained. They were so close. And now Mc was an Omega. There was no denying it now. Unclaimed, just a room away. Shaking his head, Lucifer moved to the door. "I will be at the house. Please return them safely, Barbatos."

"Of course, Lucifer." He gave a small smile as Lucifer all but slammed the door closed after himself. "I do believe he will have quite the time alone at the house."

"You mean beating off to the smell of Mc?" Diavolo couldn't help but frown. It was odd to think of Lucifer that way. Granted he was a demon with needs as well, you simply just didnt think of friends and business associates 'personal' matters. Smelling Lucifer had been enough. He felt bad for the staff that Lucifer may encounter on his way out of the palace.

But Barbatos was right. Mc smelled amazing. He couldn't blame Lucifer for the sin of Lust when it smelled like that.... and being in rut himself. It was a reserved discipline he wasn't sure he could manage, if in Lucifer's shoes.

"Best get to it. They are only gonna smell more and more before the day ends. And in a few days...its best they know what they will be up against."

"Shall I accompany you, my Lord?"

"For fuck sakes, yes please!" Diavolo groaned. "Perhaps you can help fill in things for me. You were always better versed in explaining the awkward than I, and this seems right up your alley." He sighed moving to the door. "Thank you Barbatos."

"It is no hassle, my Lord. Better Mc is informed and made aware, than something happen."

Diavolo couldn't help but frown deeply. His exchange student could be in terrible danger while adjusting to the changes of their body...and here he was willing a hard on away just from the scent.

"My Lord, perhaps a nose plug?" Barbatos sly smile returned.

Letting out a disgruntled groan, the prince tilted his head back. "How the fuck did you get back here with, Mc? There had to be dozen of demons on your trail?"

"37 to be exact my Lord, but as you know, I am very capable. Omega or not. They really did not stand a chance."

Diavolo groaned again. Hard on still not leaving. Between Mcs new scent and knowing Barbatos probably killed a few on the way... "This is so uncomfortable."

"I will grab the nose plug, and if you behave, perhaps I will indulge my Lord, for all of his hard work." A sickly sweet smile overtaking Barbatos features.

Diavolo couldn't help but growl. "You don't wish to make this easier, do you my love? You enjoy watching me squirm."

"That's when you're truly at your most attractive, my Lord. I could watch it for hours."

Diavolos face was almost as red as his hair.

Shout out to @ruionizuka for being my amazing beta reader! UwU

And yes, you read that right. Our boy barbie is an Omega as well. And he just loves to fluster thicavolo behind closed doors.

At least there is someone in the Devildom who Mc can talk to about Omega things. What is the diavoloxbarbatos ship name? Lol.

Also, thank you for reading! Any feedback is more than welcome! Thank you for all the love! Hope you all stay safe out there!

#obey me #obey me! #obey me! lucifer #obey me lucifer #lucifer #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me! asmodeus #obey me! asmo #obey me! diavolo #obey me diavolo #obey me! barbatos #obey me barbatos #lucifer x reader #ntt solmare #mimis sin bin #diavolo x Barbatos #diatos? #shit i dont know their ship name... #alpha beta omega #alpha #omega #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o fic #a/b/o #barvolo? #shit what the fuck is that ship name? #lucifer x mc

[thephilosopherspupil]

a minor but nice observation (i’m having a bit of a sick day today an want to feel better) is that since cutting my hair (and generally like, looking more like myself, a particular person, rather than the aggressive inoffensiveness of “i am doing the rules of being a girl right, please do not notice me”), while looking at old photos still has the aura of “oh, that image really doesn’t connect, that’s someone (definitely not me) trying very hard to be a girl,” the sense of visceral alienation has actually subsided a lot. it feels like being something else now, and looking more like whoever that is has made the dissonance of past-me-who-was-not-quite-me matter less because i’m not still stuck there. i just feel a sense of care, not the need to push back or lash out against that person; they were still me, if younger and less self-aware in a range of ways. i just wish i’d known that doing something else was an option for me sooner than i did. 

that being said, i also found some pictures of myself in push-up bras, and i know it was 2010, but honestly, what the fuck was i thinking? (peak comp het, that’s what. i am cringing because i know in a very serious way that i have never, not once, wished for that part of my anatomy to be larger and it is the best thing ever to just be able to put on a sports bra and have things be relatively flat)

#personal #nonbinary #discussion of bras #this seems like it might be too idiosyncratic of a tag to actually helpfully filter #so maybe #body image