#body shaming is so fucking normalized jesus

[alwaysf0rev3r]

3 Weeks Waiting

pairing: dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been hooking up with your dad’s best friend for months, but you accidentally ghosted him during finals week. saying he’s desperate is an understatement.

warnings: needy!bucky (he needs a warning), m & f masturbation, face sitting, hand jobs, riding, desperate sex, slight sub/dom dynamic, m in f penetration, dirty talk, absolute filth, hair pulling, slight degrading, praise, creampie, age gap (buckys the age he is in the movies, and reader is in college, maybe in early/mid 20s?)

note: my requests are open!!!!! REQUEST STUFF FOR ME TO WRITEEEEE :)

Tired. Annoyed. Slightly grossed out by all the old dudes around you.

That was the best way to describe how you felt in that moment. Your dad had brought over some friends and coworkers to celebrate the beginning of summer, he always found an excuse to throw a pool party.

Irritation flooded you as you got up from your beach chair, trying to subtly sneak through to go inside. You grabbed your towel to wrap it around yourself before walking through the door and into your home.

Before you could grab the chips from the kitchen island, a familiar frame stopped you. He stood tall on the other side of the kitchen island, a cup of rum in hand, “Hey, Bucky.”

Saying there was tension between the two of you was an understatement. His eyes were dark on you, a certain desperation lingering behind them, and you knew exactly why.

The two of you had been hooking up for months now, it just… Happened. But you hadn’t seen, called, or texted him in over 2 weeks because of college exams, and that was the longest the two of you had ever not spoken. Even when you went out of town, you two texted like preteens entering puberty.

And you had the audacity to sit there in front of him cluelessly.

He had to sit and just give you a small side hug greeting in front of your dad. He had to watch you tan on a beach chair in nothing but a small black bikini.

He was in pain.

“Don’t ‘Hey Bucky’ me,” he shook his head, watching you grab the cool ranch doritos on the counter and grab one.

“What?” You pretended to not know.

“I sent you like— 5 texts and called you a lot.”

“I was studying and taking exams, Buck, I warned you exam week was coming… I wasn’t even on my phone until today,” you giggled at his grump expression, not being able to hold in your own laughter. It was obvious he wasn’t truly mad, more just too stubborn to admit how much he missed you.

“Is it funny?” he scoffed lightly, matching your little giggles as he walked around the kitchen island. He stopped as he stood a foot away from you, and from afar, it’d look like the two of you were just having a normal conversation, “Do you know how hard I am right now? I can’t cum without you anymore.”

Your eyes widened at his words, and it was rare for you to get embarrassed or startled at all, “You can’t say things like that so randomly, Buck.”

“Why? Does it turn you on?” He mocked, walking closer and looking around to make sure no one looked. He slowly let the bulge in his pants touch your thigh as he breathed in relief. He didn’t grind, anxious that someone would walk in and see, even though you two were on the side of the island that covered everything below your waist, “Take the towel off.”

“You’re like a dog in heat, Jesus,” you tried to hold yourself back, wanting to come off as stronger. But when he slowly moved his hips, you swore you’d snap, “Oh my god, don’t do that— People are right th—“

“I don’t care,” he moaned a little louder than he should’ve, groaning in pain as you backed away. He watched the towel slightly open as you stood in front of him, shaking your head in shame. Your chest was revealed only slightly, but the sight was enough to make him feral, “I’m gonna cream my pants, fuck.”

“Bucky,” you scoffed, grabbing your towel and taking it off. You threw it as his chest and watched him catch it blindly, too distracted at the visual of your body, “It’s a bikini, don’t be so desperate.”

You walked past him and towards the stairs, knowing him well enough to know he was most likely staring at the view that was your ass. You turned around while you took a step on the 4th step, your eyebrows going up, “You coming or what?”

He sprinted.

Ran.

Sped.

He was a fucking track star.

He nearly fell over running to the stairs and following you, like a loyal puppy. You made sure to make it torturous and walk slowly, but your heart was telling you to sprint. You wanted this just as much as he did, if not more.

But you wanted him needy.

The minute you entered your room, he slammed the door behind you and lunged at you. Your lips intertwined with his as he gripped all parts of you, from your arms, to your chest, to your ass, to your back… all of you. But he swore he snapped when you pulled his hair just slightly, making him moan into your mouth.

God, did you miss that sound.

You pushed him on the bed, watching him sit and stare at you with lusted eyes, completely at his mercy for you. In that moment, he’d do— say— be anything for you. He needed you.

Which is why he said what he did next

“I want you to sit on my face.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, unsure of where this energy was coming from. He was always a begger, or even when he was in charge, he just asked. He never demanded or told. But there he stood, feet away from you on a bed, telling you what he needed.

You giggled and stepped closer, standing in front of his sitting body. You ran a hand over his face and took a minute to take him in, it had been too long. His sharp cheekbones, his scruff, the way his eyes were wide with needy— Beauty was not a good enough word for him, he was so much more than beautiful.

“Earn it,” you kissed his cheek in response, then moved down to his jaw. You kissed and sucked on every part of his neck while you slowly slipped your hand into his swim trunks, grabbing his bulge. His breath shortened as you gripped it tightly, rubbing up and down.

You were slow to grab the waistband of his swim trunks with your other hand and pull it down, but when you did, shock filled your face. You had never seen him so hard… It was bigger than usual, almost scary, “I haven’t cum in nearly 3 weeks.”

“Do you need me to tell you what masturbation is?” you joked, running your hand on his tip and using his precum to lubricate your hand.

“You can show me,” he joked back, throwing his head back while you started stroking faster, “I tried so hard to but— Fuck— I couldn’t c-cause it wasn’t warm like you.”

“That’s so pathetic it’s hot,” you chuckled, hearing his little laugh as well. You continued jerking him off, hoping you could get him to the edge faster, “I fucked myself a lot the past few weeks.”

“So you had time to jack off but not text me back,” he breathed out, joking with you. The sex with you two was always that— Free. No pressure, just you two.

“I guess you won’t want to hear about me cumming to a photo of you then,” you shrugged, stroking him continuously.

His eyes widened as he looked down at you, sweat covering his head, “Did you really?”

“Yes— That photo with your turtle neck… I was looking through my photos and found it in my favorites album,” you became focused on stroking, trying to ignore how wet you were, “You were so hot in it— I came twice just looking at it. Then the next day I came to that video you sent me of you jerking off a while back.”

“Jesus, you’re gonna kill me,” he moaned, which was motivation for you to slip your hand into your bikini bottoms, and subtly rub yourself while jacking him off. But when he looked down, the world was over for him, “Oh my god, you’re touching yourself.”

“It’s like there’s something wrong with me, Buck,” you moaned, removing your hand and shoving it into his mouth. He sucked all the juices of shamelessly, keeping your fingers in his mouth while he tasted you, “I’m always so wet. I cum, but it isn’t enough… I need you to fill me up, it’s the only thing that works.”

“Use me, take what you want— Fuck— I don’t care, just— Sit on my face or fuck me, please, just do whatever,” he moaned even though your hand was no longer touching him. Your words were enough to send him screaming.

“God, you are desperate,” you stared, straddling him and sitting on his bare dick. Your rubbed your clothed crotch on his exposed one, watching his mouth open, “You’re happy with whatever I give you, it’s sad. I could slap you and you’d probably thank me.”

He stayed quiet and grabbed your hips to encourage you to move more. There was something different about this time… You were in control. You had been very few times, but never so confidently, and it was driving him insane, “I could hump you for hours and you’d be okay with it, huh? You don’t even know what you want.”

“I want you to sit on my face,” he rebelled, ensuring you knew he knew exactly what he wanted.

You scoffed and put your hands on his shoulders. You dug your claws into them before moving them down and scratching hardly, watching red lines form as he moaned. You pressed your hands against his abs and pushed him down onto the bed to lay down.

He stared at you, no longer willing to make jokes. He watched you take your bikini bottoms off before shimming up and onto his abs. You stopped there and straddled his torso, humping his abs slowly, “I’ll let you taste me when I think you deserve it.”

“What did you drink?” He asked, swearing he could cum just watching you grind yourself on his abs, “Drink it more often cause you’re so fucking hot right now.”

“Shut up, I’m busy,” you moaned, grinding yourself on his abs and watching his eyebrows furrow, “I humped the pillow you’re laying on dozens of times while thinking of your cock filling me up— I even fucked myself with a dildo on it. Fuck, nothing makes me cum like you, it pisses me off.”

He moaned at the mere thought of it all, unsure if he could hold back any longer, “You can sit on my face on it too.”

You removed your body from his and moved up more, stopping as your crotch stood right over his face. He stared at your wetness, like a feral dog in training waiting for a treat… Waiting to get animalistic.

You decided to tease him a bit and put a finger inside of yourself, fingering yourself from only an inch above his eyes, “I bet those fingers don’t fill you like I do.”

“I’ll cum in front of your face and you can see how they get the job done, too,” you joked, moaning as you watched his hand go down to his own dick, jerking himself off.

“I can play this game too,” he moaned, stroking himself, “I could cum so fast just watching you… Fuck.”

Jealousy overwhelmed you as you removed your hand and sat down, holding back a bit of weight to let him breathe. He removed his hand from his own dick to push you off, making your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Don’t do that stupid thing you do,” aggression leaked through his pores, “Sit on me— Like just… Put yourself on me. I want you to just stuff my mouth, not that stupid pussy shit where you pretend to be one pound. I don’t care about air, just sit.”

You chuckled before doing as he asked, sitting with all your weight. You groaned as he moaned right into your pussy, sending your back arching immediately. He moved his tongue so quickly you bent forward, gripping his hair and pulling it slightly. It was all overwhelming as you tested the waters, grinding yourself on his face and waiting to see if he’d ever ask for air.

But he didn’t.

Should you be concerned?

You lifted yourself up for a moment, watching him take a breath before shoving yourself on his face again, nearly coming at the sight of him being at your control. You grinded faster, using his face like a toy, “I can’t believe you want me to hump your face like a pillow— You’re so— Oh fuck.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as you felt a knot in your stomach, a feeling which made you do the hardest thing you’d done in your entire life.

You lifted yourself up and got off of him.

He looked just as disappointed as his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “I want to cum when you’re inside me.”

The disappointment faded into desire as he watched you straddle him again, this time putting your bare pussy on his dick, rubbing up and down, but not high enough to his tip, “You’re so wet.”

You kept grinding on the side of his cock, waiting for him to do something to earn him getting what you’ve both been waiting for, “Please let me fuck you— I’ll do anything, fuck— Please. This is so good, but I need to just be inside you, I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

You took his begging as the final sign, taking it upon yourself to sit on his tip and slowly push down. You took your time, adjusting to what you’d spent too long without. When you were at the base, you moved your hips and circles, ignoring how stiff Bucky was. He was holding back, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white, “Bucky— Fuck me. Please. I can’t take it anymore, it hurts, just fuck me.”

He grabbed your waist and flipped the two of you over so you now stood underneath him, staring at his face. He looked down at himself entering you, knowing with that sight and the feeling of you pulling his hair, he could cum in seconds.

He relentlessly pounded into you, doing what he spent weeks penting up and thinking about doing. He rammed himself into you like a hammer hitting a nail, making your body twitch as you whined loudly. Everyone was outside at the pool, and you had all the freedom to scream.

“You’re so fucking good for me, taking me like a good girl, look at you,” he gripped your waist tighter and fucked you harder, “You’ve corrupted me— I can’t fuck anyone else, not even myself. God, I wish I could fuck you all the time. In public, in private, in cars, in every room and closet I see— Fuck.”

“Bucky, I’m gonna cum,” you yelped, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, “Do it with me.”

“I’m not wearing a condom, not tonight, baby,” he said through grunts.

“I’m on the pill, cum inside me,” you moaned, telling him exactly what he needed to hear. He spent months cumming in a condom, and very occasionally on your stomach after fucking you, “Fill me up.”

“Oh my god, you’re gonna give me a heart attack,” he groaned loudly, meeting your volume as he pounded faster, “You’re milking me so good— I’ll cum inside you, I promise.”

You both moaned as you pulled him closer, the both of you grabbing each other while you felt the other release. It felt like it lasted minutes, taking longer to cool down as he peeled himself off of you to give you space.

You sat up slowly and looked down at the cum leaking out of you, which you felt curious about. You brought a finger to your entrance and picked up all the white cream around your hole and shoved inside of you. Thrusting a few times to ensure it was deep into you. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of both of your liquids mixing to become one.

You brought the finger to your mouth and licked it clean, looking over at Bucky, who’s eyes were wide.

“Bend over, we’re doing Round 2.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x fem!reader #needy!bucky #avengers #smut #dbf!bucky #dbf!bucky x reader

[aliidarling]

i searched male manipulator music to find a song for this post LMFAOO anyways guys i dyed my hair burgundy:3 i’m in my red hair era

i need to purge my urges, shame shame shame ♡

RICK GRIMES x fem!reader

part 2

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable

summary: you get taken by the CRM by total coincidence and reunite with your lover who you haven’t seen in years, only to find out he’s only a fragment of the man he used to be

tags: p in v, praise, gaslighting, toxic!rick, manipulation, i’m bad at tagging

nsfw content below !!

You were lying barely alive in a field, bleeding out from your stomach. Your eyelids were heavy as you struggled to stay conscious, not wanting to die. You had so much to live for.

Everything was a blur, the blood staining your clothes. His name echoed in your head. It had been years since you saw the man you fell in love with. Ever since that day the bridge exploded, the day you lost him.

It had been almost eight years since then.

You supposed a normal person would have moved on by now, but his face and voice still haunted you, keeping you up during late hours and not allowing you to rest.

It would only be fitting that he was the last person on your mind during your last moments. You only could hope you were one of his before the bridge took his life.

Everything started to fade slowly, your ears ringing. Your eyesight was spotty. All you wished for was to reunite with him in the afterlife.

As you finally went still, the loud noise of a helicopter nearing went unheard by you.

You had no idea what was going on. You were being carried by two large soldiers wearing all black, holding you up by your arms as your body dragged on the floor. When you awoke, you were in an infirmary, all bandaged up and feeling better.

It was like they worked magic on you. The bandages around your abdomen were the only evidence of the stab wound that was once there.

“Where the hell am I?!” You yelled, your voice almost scratchy. They ignored you and continued dragging you towards a door in the hallway.

“Listen to me you fat fucks!” A screech left you as they shoved you inside the room, slamming the door behind you. You stumbled into the room, quickly regaining your balance as you clutched your side, the aggressive treatment opening your stitches slightly.

“Jesus, what the f… Your words were trailed as you looked up and realized four people were staring at you, all of them seated in a row with one empty seat in front of them. You blinked slowly.

One of them calmly smiled at you and motioned for you to sit. You gritted your teeth, looking around the room. Soldiers were standing by the walls, guns in their hands.

You sighed and hesitantly sat down, giving them a blank look.

It had been a week since then. They explained the overall situation you were in, and how they had found you half-dead in a field and saved you. You felt a little grateful, obviously, but you couldn’t shake off the weird feeling this place gave you.

The way they didn’t let you leave no matter what you said was what freaked you out the most.

“What do you mean I can’t leave?!” You snapped, raising your voice at the tall man before you. He had introduced himself as Okafor and was one of your superiors. For the last week, you had been dragged outside by the gate, handed a sharp spear, and instructed to kill walkers without any choice in the matter.

He rolls his eyes at you and frowns, staring down at you.

“Why would you want to leave? We’re giving you a place to stay with a small fee for some labor.” He scoffs, ushering you off back towards the fence.

“You’re being brainwashed.” You grumble, reluctantly setting your spear back up and pulling your mask down.

Another few hours of just stabbing walkers in the head passes, tiring you. You’re leaning against the gate, blood all over your clothes and the jacket they supplied you with.

“Good job, rookie,” Okafor comments playfully, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You grumble and push him off.

“This place sucks ass. I just wanna go home.”

Okafor hums and shrugs at you.

“Sorry to break the news, but there’s no chance. Only one man in history has attempted to leave, and even he didn’t make it.”

This sparks your interest for a moment before you sigh and turn away.

“Am I done for the day?”

Okafor grins and immediately shakes his head, making you groan and cross your arms. You had been in the heat for half the day now, you were sweating and all you wanted to do was go home and wash all this blood off you.

“We have a commander coming to do a check-in. He’ll be here in around ten minutes, so stay put.” The words leave him smoothly, not giving you even a second to complain before he turns away and starts talking to another one of his men.

With a groan, you picked up your spear and started stabbing the walkers again. You felt like that’s all you’ve been doing recently, other than planning on how to escape this place.

A few long minutes later, you hear a name being yelled that makes your heart stop.

“Commander Grimes!” Okafor yells happily as a tall man in a tactical suit walks up to him, his back to you. Your blood ran cold as you prayed that it was some coincidence.

Even still, if it was a coincidence it would still make you feel sick. The universe always had its way of making fun of you, and now it was making you hear his name everywhere.

You stared at the man’s back, silently praying that when he turned around it would be him. Or wouldn’t. You were confused with yourself— you didn’t know if you wanted to see him alive if it meant he was working for this corrupted military.

But your heart ached, even if the cons weighed you down. You found yourself staring, walkers long forgotten.

Okafor notices you staring and frowns, turning his attention from the commander to you with a wave of his hand.

“C’mere, rookie. You gotta meet Commander Grimes.”

Oh fuck.

Your legs felt wobbly like they could buckle from underneath you at any second. With your legs working on auto drive and your mind racing at a thousand thoughts per second, you found yourself walking towards the two men.

Once you reached them, the tall man slowly turned to look at you. It felt like should have been in slow motion, but in reality, it was all going way too fast.

The commander turned to look down at you, his blue eyes and curls making you want to vomit. It was him. Of course, it was him.

His eyes were emotionless, his face completely blank. He stared at you like you were any other person. Like you weren’t the woman he shared a bed with for years. The woman who helped him raise Carl.

“Sweetheart, your mask,” Okafor comments mockfully, making you grimace. That’s probably why he’s staring at you like you were a piece of dust.

“S-Sorry, sir.” Your voice cracked slightly as you quickly pulled your mask off, your hair getting tangled slightly. You quickly brush it out of your eyes, blinking rapidly. Gulping down the nausea, you looked back up to meet Rick’s eyes.

He was frozen, his lips parted and eyes wide, not making a single noise. His back was turned to Okafor, so only you could see the expression he had. The expression of shock, realization, and recognition.

After a long moment of silence between the three of you, you held your hand up to your temple and saluted him, your fingers trembling.

“Commander Grimes.” Your voice shook as you pressed your lips together.

He stared at you for another long few seconds before nodding, so subtle you barely noticed. Everything in his body was on fire, alarms blaring and his heart pounding.

There you were. Standing in front of him. Saluting to him.

“Welcome to the CRM, consignee..” He trailed on.

You held back a laugh before muttering your name, glancing at him, the ground, and then back to Okafor.

“Am I free to go?” You said rather harshly, your fists clenching.

Okafor gave you a once-over, judging your dirty clothes stained by walker blood and messy hair from the mask. He hums before waving you off.

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll see you here at 8am tomorrow morning.” He mutters before going back into casual conversation with Rick.

As you walked away, you could feel a pair of eyes burning a hole into your back.

Just later that night, you were in your given apartment. It didn’t feel like home, like Alexandria. Your mind stayed on Judith and RJ, freaking out about whether they were alright or not.

Judith had stopped answering you a few days before you got captured. You knew a part of you was delusional for going out on a whole entire journey to find your lover when this whole time he was living luxury at the CRM. He was a commander, fuck.

What were you doing? Staying here? You needed to escape now, find Rick, and ask him what he was doing here. You wouldn’t leave without him, that was for sure.

You crawled up on your bed, hunching closer to the window. It led to a fire escape but was sealed tightly shut. For a place that says they never had anyone want to leave, they’re pretty cautious with these types of things.

Glancing at the mini kitchen, you got an idea. You grabbed one of the knives and got back on the bed and kneeled down next to the window and started to slide the knife between the slits, hoping to hear a crack or any type of noise that would alert you you’re going in the right path.

Not even mid-way through your little escape attempt, your door suddenly slammed open. You shrieked and dropped the knife, sitting up and turning towards your door.

Rick stood there, staring at you with a panicked expression. He shut the door, locked in, before turning back to you. He was wearing dark clothing still, but not tactical. Instead, he wore a button-up paired with jeans, with a leather jacket on top.

He rushed towards you and grabbed you, cupping your face with shaky hands and trembling lips. You immediately leaned back into him with the same expression, happy to finally be with him, and happy he still cared for you.

“You- you— why—“ He furrowed his brows as he patted you down in a panic, not believing the fact you sat before him. His hands were shaky as he cupped your face again and leaned down towards you, scanning every detail on your face.

“Rick, Rick— is it really you?” You gasped softly, sitting up further and pulling him in by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He places one hand on the back of your neck while his other stays on your back, pushing you into him.

“It’s me, baby, swear. S’me.” He soothingly brushes his fingers through your hair before gently placing his other hand on your chin. His thumb picks at your bottom lip.

“What are ya’ doing here, sweetie? How’d ya’ find me?” His voice was soft and gentle, lowered. His thumb gently pulls your lip down before leaning his down. He breaths onto your lips.

“I-I— I’ve been, I’ve been looking. I swear. Almost died and CRM took me.” You muttered shakily. Rick frowns and massages the back of your head gently.

“You almost died?” He mumbled and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. You whined softly, wanting nothing more then his lips on yours. Your hands clawed at his jacket. He giggles and pushes you down onto your bed, crawling over you and pressing your body down with his.

“You’re okay, now, right? Good girl, keep being good for me.” You nod in response as he kisses your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands gently tug at his hair.

“Missed you.” You whimper into his ear, a soft moan leaving you as he nuzzles his beard into your sensitive flesh. His hips grind down on yours, the two of you desperate for each other.

“God, can’t even describe how much I missed ya’, gonna fuck you so good.” He almost whines. His hands come down by your sides and grab at you. He presses his lips against you hard.

A muffled moan leaves you as he sits up over you slightly. He pushes one of his knees between your legs and puts pressure against your core, his hand going to your shirt.

“I’m not gonna let you leave this time, kay’?” His eyes darkened as he said this, making you shiver. With a hesitant nod, Rick starts to pull your shirt off. Once you were topless underneath him, his lips pressed gentle kisses against every inch of your torso.

His breath brushed against your breasts. Your bra was the only thing separating him from your breasts. Without another second to spare, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra.

This was all going so fast.

“Wait— Rick,” You whine softly, trying to sit up. He shushes you, cupping your breasts and pushing you back down, colluding his lips with your neck.

“Haven’t seen you in eight years, sweetheart. Nothing you do can get me off you.” He chuckles darkly, nuzzling his scratchy beard against your sensitive throat before pulling away and lowering his predatory gaze to your breasts.

A small moan left your lips as his hands started to massage your breasts, his warm palms gliding over your chest. Your nipples hardened, making him chuckle. He leans down, tweaking one of them with his finger and gently taking the other in his mouth.

Your eyes flutter as you find yourself being pleasured by the man you’ve been dreaming of for years— your body being treated like a vase. He was so gentle and soft with you, kissing every inch he could reach. His hands were soothing as they caressed you.

It still felt odd though. Something about his dark gaze and his possessive words had you shivering under him, looking up at his eyes. The new scars on his body had you wondering what he went through.

He was holding you close to his chest, hugging you tightly and humming soft little praises into your ear. His cock was buried deep inside you, your walls fitting him like a vise. He moaned into your ear, holding you so tightly you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with bruises.

His hips rocked smoothly, pushing himself deeper and deeper, wanting all you could offer. He wanted every inch of you and never wanted to let go.

“Good girl, so good for me, pussy so tight around me,“ He groans into your ear. His voice was raspy as his hands tightened around you, one on the back of your neck and gripping it. He held your face towards him so he could lean down to give you kisses whenever he wanted.

His other hand went down to work at your clit, humming approvingly as you clenched down at the pressure and let out an adorable little mewl under him.

“Wanna cum? Hmm?” He coos, gently rubbing your sensitive spot, leaning closer, and nuzzling into your neck. His thrusts get harder.

“P-Please, Rick, love you so much—“ You choke out, grabbing at him to steady yourself as he batters your insides. Your toes curled as your eyes rolled back, broken whines leaving your throat.

“Oh, oh, oh God— p-please! I’ve been so good..” You cried out into his ear as your words started to slur together. Your lips were quivering as he kept slamming his cock into your tight hole over and over again, sending you right over the edge.

“Yeah, you gonna cum? Mmm, good girl, just like that,” He whispers softly as he pounds into you more as you spasm around him. He feels your little cunt go tight around him and let out your juices. He grunts at the feeling, burying himself as deep as he could as he closes his eyes and leans his head back, relishing in the feeling of cumming inside you for the first time in eight heat.

“Yeah, sweet little baby. So good for me.” He groans as he fucks you gently through your orgasm, listening to your shaky moans and cries as your release keeps getting dragged on and on, more cum leaking out from your hole.

With a shaky sigh, he makes sure he has completely milked you out before slowly pulling out, small squelching sounds filling the silence. Your breaths were shaky, and so were his, both of you exhausted after the passionate love-making session.

“Rick..” You mumble tiredly, looking over at him. You lay limp on the bed, your pussy a mess with both your cums dripping out.

He smiles and looks over, now standing up and reaching for his boxers. He leans over you and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, his thumb squishing your cheeks together.

“I’ll clean you up, kay? Gimme a sec, hun.” He says sweetly before pulling away once again and walking off to your bathroom.

A few minutes later the two of you laid in your shitty bed together, the mess between your thighs cleaned up. You were currently receiving a back massage from him, oddly enough. You laid on your belly as his large hands worked on your back muscles.

He stared down at you, admiring every little change in your body. He wished he was there for you all those years he wasn’t.

“What happened?” You asked softly, peering at him from over your shoulder. You felt him press his thumb down on a knot in your shoulder, making you whine softly.

“…You want me to start from the start?” He chuckles dryly. You give a hesitant nod.

“…Anne found me.. half dead on the riverbank. She was working with the CRM and turned me in, saved my life.” He spoke with a small hint of gratitude in his words, masked by his deadpan tone.

You continued to lay there silently, enjoying the back massage but still wanting him to explain everything. Was that all he was gonna say?

“..And? Did they— did they force you to stay? Did they hurt you?” You stuttered, wanting some type of explanation why he never came back. You wouldn’t be able to handle it if you found out he had willingly stayed here for eight years.

He was silent for a moment, his palm pressing down on your shoulder blades and rubbing in small circles. His eyes gaze down at you, wondering what to say to make himself not sound like the bad guy.

“No.” He mutters after a moment.

You felt like your entire world had shattered again, like he was being ripped from your arms like that day on the bridge.

“Why didn’t you try to come back?” Your voice cracked, making him realize he had screwed up. He hesitates on what to do before quickly pulling you into his arms, rubbing your back gently, and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“I did, sweetheart, promise. Tried a few times, but they stopped me. Made me realize what this place was. It’s life-changing, baby, you gotta give it a chance. I want you to stay here with me, kay? For me? Please, you gotta do it. If you loved me you’d stay, wouldn’t you?” He whispers soothingly, his words like daggers as he holds you tighter with every passing second.

“W-What? Rick? No— I can’t—“ You attempted to pull away, making him growl and push you down on the bed, crawling over you and planting his arms on each side of you.

“No, you gotta listen to me.” He says firmly, his eyes dark. Who was this man? Why was he treating you like this? The Rick you knew would never speak to you like this.

“Rick—"

He shushes you.

“You’re staying here with me, got it? It’s safe here. You’ll be safe. Don’t you wanna stay with me? Don’t you want tonight to happen over and over again?” He whispers, his dark tone turning into a sickeningly sweet one, his hand coming to cup your cheek and gently caress your skin.

“I can't, Rick. What about A-Alexandria? Judith? Maggie and Daryl— they’re all— you need to come home! This place isn’t good, good for you, good for us.” You attempt to plead.

Your words fall on deaf ears as he shushes you again, the dark look in his eyes coming back. He stares down at you in an almost offended manner.

“Are you trying to manipulate me?” He scoffs, sitting up and giving you a disgusted look. You freeze, quickly sitting up and attempting to reach for him. He clicks his tongue and pushes you away.

“I cant believe you sweetheart, just got me back, and is already trying to fall for your words. I thought you loved me?” He whispers slowly, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

Your heart stops as his words settle in your throat, your eyes wide. Panic overtakes you as you quickly pull him back in and hug him tightly, trembling now.

“N-No, no, I swear— I wasn’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Rick, please don’t leave me.” Your words are small and fearful, fearful of him leaving you after you just found him.

His eyes soften as he keeps the sick grin from overtaking his face, his hands going to gently cradle you in his chest. He hums sweetly, rubbing your head.

“It’s okay, I know you’re just a lil’ confused. I’ve gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, okay? I’ll keep you safe and sound, just gotta stay here with me, can you do that? For me?”

“Y-Yea— yes, yes, anything for you.” You stammer, curling into his arms with watery eyes and shaky limbs. You didn’t want him to leave you, not again.

“Good girl. Knew you’d snap back to reality.” He chuckles dryly. His large hands hold you close to him, humming gently into your ear and rocking your small body.

The two of you lay there for a long time until you were asleep and gently snoring, and he was staring down at your vulnerable form, thinking.

You weren’t gonna go anywhere, and he’d make sure of that. He had searched for you for too long to let you slip away now, he’d rather die than watch you leave. He just needs to find a way to get Judith here, and you’ll all be the happy family you once were.

He’d make sure you had nowhere to go, even if it meant hurting you and twisting your sight on the world.

lmk if u want a part 2? idk what i could make happen but there's def potential

#Spotify #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes smut #the walking dead smut #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #smut #the ones who live #twd the ones who live #twd towl #towl

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4042

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

5. Jiggly Soufflé Cake

Steve

“I should be in there,” Bucky says again, making Steve roll his eyes.

They’re sitting next to each other, out in the waiting room at the Center. It’s been over an hour, but Steve remembers how the intake worker had told them that Mary’s evaluation wouldn’t be short. Already, he’s read through half the crappy magazine selection. He lets the edge of an outdated issue of Dominant Monthly flop down to his lap. “Babe …”

“It’s taking too long. What if they’re harassing her or—”

“You know that’s not true. The people here are good. You’re just trying to control everything,” he reminds Bucky.

“If I was in there I could—”

“Get in the way. She needs to feel like she can express herself.”

“What if she’s not honest? What if Linda’s not asking her the right—”

“Buck, stop,” Steve says, injecting some command into his voice. Bucky might be the Dom, but Steve can put his foot down with his husband when needed. “The therapist knows what she’s doing. All the people here do. This is what they do.”

They’re at the Center for Designated Peoples, the place where people like Bucky go for … well, anything related to their dominance or submission needs. That’s all Steve really knows. He knows that Bucky has been in and out of CDPs since he was a kid. “It took almost a week to get her this appointment, alright? You want to mess that up?”

Bucky grumbles. “No.”

“Good. Cause they don’t need you in there, interfering in her assessment. So sit tight.”

Bucky shuts up after that, satisfying Steve that he’s made his point.

“Well, what do you think?” Bucky eventually says, when another ten minutes have passed and the door to the therapist’s office is still closed. “Of her?”

Steve glances over. “You mean in general?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Steve can tell when Bucky’s being defensive. “You like her,” he says. “And not just cause of her lemon tarts.” He’d seen him looking at weighted blankets on Amazon, yesterday. “Admit it,” he prods, nudging Bucky’s shoe with his. “You can tell me how you feel. Why d’you need me to qualify it for you, first?

“Because I’m married to you, not her,” Bucky snaps. “Jesus, Rogers. Never met a man with less self-preservation instincts than you.”

“Mmhm. Aand?”

“... Okay I’m drawn to her,” Bucky says. “But I can’t tell how much of that is instinct and how much is normal people stuff.”

“‘Normal people stuff’,” Steve echoes, amused.

“I want to know what you think of her.” Bucky kicks his shoe back. “Tell me.”

“I like her too,” Steve concedes. “It’s not just you.” He can see as Bucky’s shoulders relaxing a little bit, knows that his opinion matters to his husband. “She’s different. Plain, but …” Steve searches for the right word. ‘Cute’ doesn’t seem right. She’s too prickly for that and too old besides. She’s a woman, not a girl, and he’s not just trying to describe her physical appearance. “I don’t know,” he says. “Editorial?”

“Editorial?” Bucky scowls. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I dunno, just, not off the rack. Different.” Bucky snatches the magazine out of his lap and chucks it back to the coffee table. Steve rolls his eyes. “Wish she wasn’t so defensive, though. And I wish we could’ve met her … you know, like on a date or at the gym or something.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah.”

“She grows on you,” Steve decides. Like an angry, stray cat. That’s dirty and scraggy a little.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky offers, but the words fall flat. They can both see that she’s attractive, that isn’t news. Bucky and Steve are attractive people themselves. They aren’t hurting for opportunities to be with attractive women (or men), if they want to. And it’s been a while since they invited another person into their bed. But …

“I haven’t been with a woman since my twenties,” Steve mumbles, thinking about it. He glances at Bucky. “You have.”

They both know Bucky was dating women casually when he met Steve, years ago. “Yeah,” he says simply.

“You ever miss ‘em? Women?” Steve kind of does sometimes. He likes how soft they are; the contrast. It had taken him a couple of dates and a few glasses of wine, back when they’d first gotten together, to admit to Bucky that he was bi. Steve had told him that, and then Bucky had disclosed his designation status. “We used to talk about the whole poly thing a lot more.”

“Hm, yeah I guess.” Bucky shrugs and reaches to take his hand. Steve gives it a squeeze. “I dunno babe. Kind of hard to think about anybody else when I’ve got you around.” He gives him a lecherous look that makes Steve glad they’re the only ones in the waiting room. “Your hot body’s been enough to keep my attention.” His eyes drag up and down Steve, mentally undressing him.

Steve feels heat creep up his neck and he chuckles, pushing Bucky’s hand away. “Stoppit. Jerk. I’m a person.”

“Punk,” Buck smirks. “You like it.”

“Shuddup. Not here. God, you’re such a creep.” They’re both grinning—probably like complete, horny letches—when the door to the therapist’s office opens.

The professionally dressed woman offers them a friendly smile. “Bucky, Steve.”

“Hey Linda,” Bucky greets.

“How’d it go, Doctor?” Steve asks, not on as informal terms with the CDP staff as his husband is. “Is she …”

“Mary is fine. Would you like to come in and talk with us?”

Bucky is immediately standing from his chair. “Yep.”

Steve has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He grabs Bucky’s wrist. “Hang on now, Buck. Maybe she doesn’t want us in there. We should try and give her choices where we can.”

Doctor Linda surprises him by saying, “Actually, Mary says she’s fine with discussing this all together.”

Bucky shoots him a smug look and tugs his wrist back. “See?”

This time Steve does roll his eyes, but he nods at Linda and gets up to follow her back into the office.

Bucky

Bucky can recall very clearly the first time he’d been told he had a mental illness. He’d been ten, had been sent to the school shrink for misbehavior. He remembers how his mom had come in, harried about being called off from work when her kid wasn’t even sick. Bucky had felt bad about that, had felt like he’d done something wrong (well, he had scrubbed Trixie Wallace’s face into a mud puddle at recess).

But still, even at ten years old he’d been smart enough to know that this meeting with his mom and the counselor was more serious than another simple admonition or in-school suspension.

Long story short, His mom wound up reacting with something like embarrassment, and Bucky had wound up internalizing that for a long time, feeling like his “condition” was something to be kept private and not discussed.

Now, he sits in Linda’s office and makes sure to exude an air of calm and acceptance. He doesn’t want Mary to be embarrassed about this like he was. It helps that times have changed a bit since Bucky was a kid, and he knows this particular Center very well. They do good work with the designated community. Bucky knows that no one here is going to announce to Mary that she’s a deviant.

Mary’s sitting in her own chair, separate from where Bucky and Steve share the couch. Even though Bucky’s instinct is to tell her to come sit with them, he holds back. He knows that the seating arrangement is likely purposeful on Linda’s part. He tries to remember Steve’s words about giving Mary choices where they can. Domination may be what she needs, but too much of a good thing, administered too fast, can still be harmful.

“High needs,” Steve is saying, echoing what Linda’s just told them. “... So, she’s like Bucky, but submissive?”

“Yes,” Linda confirms. “We did the assessment twice, and both times Mary tested at the far end of the spectrum.”

“Fantastic,” Mary mutters.

“We’ve been discussing what this might mean for her care plan, going forward. Mary has several other issues that I believe tie into her unfulfilled needs as a submissive.”

“I don’t understand how it went undiagnosed for so long,” Bucky says, feeling vaguely upset about it. “Doc?”

She shrugs. “Mary’s from a part of the country where mental health awareness isn’t so advanced. They didn’t test in the public school system where she grew up.” Mary makes a quiet noise of discontent and Linda adds, “So we’ve been talking about the physiology of it, the role of neurotransmitters and how important it is for her to be dropped regularly. And we’ve discussed what that might look like, different options she has.”

“Options?”

Here, Linda hesitates. “Well … Mary has expressed an interest in taking advantage of the Center’s social programs.”

“No,” Bucky says right away. “Absolutely not.”

“She said you do it,” Mary counters, and when Bucky looks over he finds her glaring at him. “Apparently, I don’t need you after all. I can just come here and hook up with any old body.”

“I’m your legal guardian right now,” Bucky reminds her. “And the clubs are for people who know what they’re doing. It’s too unstructured for you. You need more stability than that.”

Mary scoffs and crosses her arms, but Dr. Linda is already nodding in agreement. “I think Bucky’s right, Mary,” she says gently. “A reliable, dominant partner and regular drops in a safe space are what you need right now.”

“Why can’t you just write me a prescription or something?” Mary complains. “You said it was a brain chemistry thing, so why not?”

Linda looks uncomfortable as she explains, “Medication is usually only considered as a last ditch treatment option … and with your substance use disorder and other issues I'd rather not —”

“I am not an alcoholic!”

“No meds,” Bucky says, hating that idea. “Come on, Mary. You don’t want to be drugged up, do you?”

She glares at him. “You just want to control me.”

He fights very, very hard not to roll his eyes. “Yeah,” he quips. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

Mary groans and slumps back into the cushions of her chair, looking put out. “This sucks.”

“It’s manageable,” Linda reminds gently.

"I don't want to be this way," she mumbles. "'High needs'. It's embarrassing."

“It's no different than needing air, or food or sleep,” Steve supplies. “You guys just have this extra thing.”

Mary makes a face, probably at being lumped into the ‘you guys’ category with Bucky. “So, what’s the plan then?” she asks mulishly, crossing her arms. “We go back to your place and you break out the whips and chains?”

Bucky barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “Oh, honey. I promise there aren’t any chains.” He winks at her. “I prefer leather.”

Mary

After the therapist, it gets a little easier to be around Steve and Bucky. Mary’s still quick to anger, thinking about the situation that she's managed to get herself into, but there are some ameliorating factors to the situation.

Having an official diagnosis—no matter how much she doesn’t want this diagnosis—is at least a starting point. Mary doesn’t have to keep exhausting herself, arguing with Bucky that she’s not a sub. She is. That’s that.

And when he takes it upon himself to speak with Mary’s boss about her situation (effectively getting him to unfire her for the multiple days of work she’s missed) some more of Mary’s contempt for Bucky slips away.

“Thank you,” she says quietly once they leave the café, her next shift already scheduled for that upcoming Monday. “ I … this job, it means a lot to me.”

“I know.” Bucky says simply, though Mary can see the self-satisfaction in his posture. He takes her hand as they walk together down the sidewalk, and to Mary it feels like some sort of test, like he’s waiting for her to pull away.

So she forces herself to curl her fingers around his and keep holding his hand.

Again, she can practically feel the reaction coming off of him. He’s pleased with her. Mary’s cheeks flush from the domineering squeeze he gives her hand from time to time as they walk, and she’s grateful that she can blame it on the day’s chilly air.

Doctor Linda had explained everything, of course, when Mary went in for the assessment. The testing hadn’t been what she was expecting, hadn’t been embarrassing or invasive. And, perhaps most disappointing of all, it hadn’t been predictable. Mary hadn’t felt like she knew which way to fake her responses, to get the test to declare her mentally fit. So she’d answered honestly. 

And where had that gotten her? Lumped into the same group of deviants as James Bucky Barnes. “High needs”—God it sounds awful.

“It’s not necessarily sexual,” Linda tells her at her second appointment. “Or, well … it doesn’t have to be, at least. There are ways around it, if you really need an asexual dynamic.”

Mary nods along, but inside she thinks about the last time Bucky scolded her or praised her or held her hand on the sidewalk. She thinks about when he’d put his hand on her throat and applied pressure. Thinking about those things doesn’t make her feel asexual at all.

The first time Bucky doms her in a coordinated manner, she’s actually unaware of what he’s doing at first. It’s one of Mary’s  three days off and she’s terribly bored, researching how to make grapefruit soda caviar and wondering if there’s a gym nearby that she could join. She hasn’t exercised in weeks, and honestly, if there’s even the slightest chance that she’s going to wind up being naked in front of Bucky or Steve (or, oh god, both of them), then she really feels like she needs to work out.

Scratching fingernails over the skin of her lower stomach, she googles nearby gyms, finds one that looks decent, and tells Steve that she’s headed out to go join. She’s tying one sneaker when Steve objects.

“Oh but wait,” he says. “Um, Bucky’s going to be home soon. And I think he uh, I think he had plans. … For us.”

Mary raises an eyebrow. She likes Steve—thinks he’s kind of a big, beefy sweetheart, actually—but sometimes his devotion to Bucky and what Bucky wants is annoying. “Fine, you stay here and tell him where I went. I’ve got to get out of this apartment.” And out from under you and your bossy husband’s constant supervision. “Got to … I dunno, burn off some steam.”

Bucky’s timing is impeccable. He comes through the door just as she’s bending over to lace up her other sneaker. His arms are full of plastic grocery bags, which he dumps onto the kitchen counter with fanfare. "Honey, I'm home."

“What happened to using the reusable bags?” Steve drawls, earning an eye roll from Bucky.

“Forgot 'em.”

“Mmhm.”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s grinning at his husband, until he catches sight of Mary crouched in her gym clothes. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks her.

“None of your business,” she snips, standing back up and heading for the front door.

“Stop right there, Princess.”

Oh. Well that’s a new one. Mary turns back around with what she’s sure is an incredulous look. “‘Princess’?”

Bucky smiles warmly and drags her over to inspect the groceries that are in the bags. She’s quick to catalog: eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk. “What?” she asks, looking up at him. “You think I’m going to cook for you?”

“Oh I know you’re going to cook for me,” he says calmly, taking dry goods out of one of the bags and arranging them in the pantry. “Bake, in fact.”

Mary might stare a little, maybe with her lips parted. She feels equal parts annoyed and intrigued by his audacity. Something vaguely squirmy and warm stirs in her. She's planning on throwing some haughty quip back at him, maybe casually threatening poisoning, but somehow what comes out of her mouth is a subservient, “Well … what do you want me to make?”

He turns back around with bright eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you can come up with something,” he practically purrs. He gets right up in her space and says, “Something … delectable.”

Mary has to avert her gaze and turn away. She says a quick prayer that he hadn’t been close enough to hear the little hitch in her breath, then tries to focus her attention on cataloging the ingredients the jerk has brought her. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk …

Hadn’t she … hadn’t she been going out somewhere? Oh yeah, right. The gym.

She squeaks when Bucky claps a cheerful hand on her shoulder and gives her a squeeze. “Good girl,” he simpers, then walks over to the couch and flops down next to Steve, giving him a kiss hello. They proceed to chat with each other and chat about their days like Mary isn’t standing less than twenty feet away in the kitchen.

She suddenly feels like some 1950’s housewife. … One with damp panties, now that Bucky’s called her that right in her ear. Christ. Had Steve heard? She glances back over to them, but they’re not looking her way. Mary flushes and looks back down at the countertop. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk. She tries to think if she has everything she might need for soufflé cakes.

“How can something so plain be so good?” Steve wonders at the dinner table, where he’s squinting closely at his third helping of dessert like he can glean answers from it. “And what is it?”

“Satisfying,” Bucky says sagely. “That’s the secret.”

“The secret is buttermilk. And it’s cake, Steve. Just eat it.”

“How’re those dishes coming, Doll?” Bucky calls back, shooting her a sly look from over his shoulder. Mary resists the urge to stick her tongue out at him and dunks her hands back into the soapy sink water. 

Steve pokes the jiggly cake with his fork. “What are yooou?” 

By the time they’re finished with dinner and dessert (and dishes), she’s figured it out. All the pet names, the casual touches and the confident demands? Bucky’s trying to dominate her. She thinks about calling him out on it, but promptly forgets to do that when they go into the living room to watch a movie and Bucky firmly suggests that she make herself comfortable on the floor instead of the couch. At his and Steve’s feet.

Forget about damp panties, she just hopes it doesn’t start to show through her leggings.

Asexual dynamic her ass.

Mary had only held onto the illusion that the guys were gay gay for about two whole days, before it became very apparent that they actually like women, too. Steve’s comments alone about Daenerys while watching Game of Thrones are enough to broadcast that he swings both ways.

So that takes it from regrettable to just plain insulting when, as time goes by, Bucky doesn’t initiate anything sexual with her. He keeps doing his whole Dom thing, aided and abetted by Steve, and almost always in ways that take Mary off guard. He’s never mean, never does any of the intimidating things she’d imagined a dom would do to a submissive. 

And Mary won’t admit it, but she’s starting to look forward to when Bucky gets home from work at the end of the day. She spends more time than she’ll ever admit planning out something new to make for dessert, all the while anticipating the beginning of Bucky’s early evening commands and how they elicit those first tendrils of effervescent, pink fizz giddiness. 

It’s the later commands—the ones that come after dinner and during tv time, that tend to bring on the warm, sunken bathwater feelings. Marys pretty sure that Steve is a bit of a voyeur, because he seems fascinated by it all, watching every night as Bucky bosses her around, sometimes even joining in his own small ways, by petting her hair or telling her she’s sweet, or something like that.

Every evening, they play this strange game. And every evening Bucky and Steve each give her a kiss on the cheek and send her dazed little self off to bed, the two of them retiring to their own room. In the beginning, being left alone to go to bed is nice. She ignores the arousal between her legs in favor of floating in her syrupy sea of sweet feelings. Going to bed in subspace gives her the most solid sleep she’s ever had in her life. But after another week of it, and then another, the arousal starts to linger a little more at bedtime. She starts to fantasize about what it would be like to keep things going, to take Steve’s hand at the end of the night and let him guide her into his and Bucky’s bedroom, rather than her own; be held between their two big bodies while they whisper more sweet things to her and touch her in new places …

Maybe Steve and Bucky really do just want this to be platonic, she thinks, as another week of the same goes by and her dreams are getting dirtier by the minute. She’d surreptitiously stuffed her vibrator into a bag when they’d gone back to her apartment to retrieve her belongings, but she’s been too afraid to use it when Steve and Bucky are right across the hallway in their room, mortified to think that they might hear the buzzing and know what she’s doing.

Best not to add fuel to the fire, she thinks, when she ignores how increasingly horny she’s becoming and forces herself to lie still and count sheep and not fantasize about the two insanely hot, not-gay-gay men in the next room. They’re still a happily married couple, she tells herself. They’ve got no interest in her as of yet, and she’ll just be making herself into a homewrecker if she pushes for more.

… Or maybe they’re just not attracted to her that way, she eventually starts to think. Steve and Bucky are both in amazing shape, and they’re very good looking. They probably see her as like … maybe a solid five—with makeup and a blowout. 

She gets a little down in the dumps about it, realizing that all the heavy drinking and crap diet of this past year and a half has taken its toll on her, and she’s just not physically their type. She convinces Bucky to start adding salmon to the grocery list, she researches the pros and cons of lip filler, and starts whitening her teeth with one of those nasty little gel kits.

She stands in front of her bathroom mirror each night and scrutinizes her naked body, dragging her nails absentmindedly against the skin of her lower stomach and cataloging everything that’s not as good as it could be. She considers the scars on her hip that have no new slices added to the roster, wonders if Bucky ever wound up telling Steve about how … how awful they are …

“Night, Mary!” Steve chirps from across the hall, making her inhale and flinch in surprise.

“N-night!” she calls back through the wall, feeling the pleasant effects of that night’s drop fading away faster than she’d like.

Maybe she should just be happy that she’s getting at least this much attention from them, that things have improved a little and she at least isn’t drinking herself into a stupor each night anymore. That’s a positive, even if she is still left pining after them like a fool every night. Steve and Bucky are okay guys, but they probably just don’t want anything more than this from her. They’re helping her because she shares this mental illness with Bucky, and that’s super nice of them, but it doesn’t mean they have to be attracted to her, too. Mary’s not entitled to anything.

She joins a 24 hour gym and takes to binge exercising in the middle of the night to push away the uncertainty.

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[morallyinept]

Emotions are like rollercoasters, right?

Hold tight, D!

One moment you're enjoying the upward incline, feeling on top of the world. The next you're plummeting without any control, and it all happens so fast that-

I... D? You feeling alright, bud?

You didn't like it? Okay. No more rollercoasters for you. Yes, I promise. We'll just stick to the hall of mirrors next time...

It's okay, sweetie. Just heave it all up. It's alright... you're okay, D...

JESUS!! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EAT?! 😨 Why is there a goldfish in there...?

You know what? I don't wanna know...✋🏻

Whilst Dieter, uh, pulls himself together, let's take a look this week at how we can recognise the oncoming signs of depression.

It's Friday!! It's time for more Self Care with Dieter & Jett. 🖤

Oh... Christ. Here we go. 😮‍💨🧻🧻🧻🧻

Everyone has ups and downs.

It's perfectly normal to feel out of step sometimes. And we all go through feeling low in our spirits at some point in our lives.

You do, don't you, D?

Yeah, and boy don't we know it... 😬

Often people use the term ‘depression’ to describe feeling down or low. But not everyone will have or experience depression.

And not everyone knows or understands what depression is fully, as everyone who experiences it, can feel differently and experience different types of it.

For some it may be fleeting, or even seasonal (Seasonal Affective Disorder, for example). For others it may render us mentally incapcitated for weeks, months, or even years on end.

Depression is a mental disorder of the brain, common, something that anyone can get at any time in their life and is treatable.

Depression isn’t something you can simply 'snap out of’, a sign of weakness, something that everyone experiences, or something that lasts forever.

You sometimes get the brain scramblies, don't you, D?

Yep. And so do I. It's perfectly normal to feel down and blue.

So, how do you know if what you're feeling is just a case of the blues, or the encroach into depression?

What are the symptoms of depression?

Some symptoms of depression are:

low mood, feeling sad, irritable, or angry

having less energy to do certain things

losing interest in activities you used to enjoy

reduced concentration

becoming tired more easily

disturbed sleep and losing your appetite

loss of self-confidence

feeling guilty or worthless

losing interest in sex

weight loss, or weight gain from comfort eating

thoughts and movements slowing down

☝🏻Now, it's important to note here, that you can feel some, or all of these things, from time to time and it doesn't mean it's necessarily signs of depression. It could mean you're just feeling out sorts and need a time out for a few days, a little rest.

Perhaps you've been burning the candle at both ends and it's your body telling you that you need to have a break...

Umm, yeah. 🤨

ℹ️ But if you've been experiencing these symptoms for longer than two weeks, most medical practitioners would recommend you take a trip to see your GP.

Especially if you've been experiencing any feelings of mania, or thoughts of self-harm or suicide.

Please remember that you're not alone. Even if it feels like it. There is help out there for you and you don't have to feel like this.

Your tum still feeling all squibbly, buddy?

Aww, you're worried about our friends? Bless your heart, D. You really are a sweetheart, aren't you? 😘

But it's okay, we'll put some links at the bottom of this post in case anyone needs some more help and support.

Breaking the stigma of depression

Many wrongly believe that people with a mental illness aren’t able to function in daily life, are incapable of making a living, lack interpersonal skills, or are unkempt. These are unfortunate, and often cruel, stereotypes placed on people by others who lack empathy, understanding, and knowledge about depression.

In many families, depression, and other mental illnesses, are looked upon as something shameful. People with depression are perceived as weak and told to “buck up” and “stop feeling sorry for yourself”.

Statements like this can ultimately shame and discourage people from seeking help. Depression is a medical condition.

Like the body, the brain can also get sick sometimes. 🧠 And you would need to treat your brain like you would your body, by getting help to mend it. 🩹

Steps to cope with stigma

Here are some ways you can deal with stigma:

Get help and treatment. You may be reluctant to admit you need any treatment. Don't let the fear of being labeled with depression prevent you from seeking help. Treatment can provide relief by identifying what's wrong and reducing symptoms that interfere with your work and personal life.

Don't let stigma create self-doubt and shame. Stigma doesn't just come from others. You may mistakenly believe that your depression is a sign of personal weakness or that you should be able to control it without help. Seeking counseling, educating yourself and connecting with others who have depression can help you gain self-esteem and overcome destructive self-judgment.

Don't isolate yourself. If you have a depression, you may be reluctant to tell anyone about it. Your family, friends, or members of your community can offer you support if they know about it. Reach out to people you trust for the compassion, support and understanding you need.

Talk about it. Spread the message positively about the harm of stigmatisation. Educate others and encourage them to be supportive. Don't assume they are being deliberately ignorant - they may not understand because they may not have experienced depression for themselves.

Others' judgments almost always stem from a lack of understanding rather than information based on facts. Learning to accept your depression and recognize what you need to do to treat it, seeking support, and helping educate others can make a big difference.

Tips on getting back to the top

Be kind to yourself. I know that's easier said than done sometimes, but take some time to remind yourself that you're only human, and sometimes we feel things deeply within us. And that's okay.

Understand that you are not weak. Seeking help does not make you weak. The fact that you want to feel like yourself again makes you incredibly strong.

You are stronger than you think.

Isn't that right. D?

Talk about it. It's easy to cut yourself off and hibernate. To feel like you're a 'burden'. You're not. The people that care about you will want to help and support you. So talk to them. If you really feel like there is no-one you can talk to, you can also talk to someone medically or professionally.

Treat yourself. Give yourself moments of kindness by doing things or indulging in things that make you happy.

Little bursts of joy can accumulate in to long term to getting back to yourself and feeling happier.

That's not what I mean, Dieter. 🙄

It's important to understand that although your symptoms of depression may come and go, or be with you for a while, being kind to yourself will ultimately help alleviate some of that pressure put on yourself.

Feelings and emotions are like rollerocasters; once on board, you've just got to let yourself go through those rickety up and downs. And crazy, scary loop-de-loops. But remember, you will eventually be able to get off the ride when it comes to a halt. 🎢

Now D, shall we get you into bed and I'll give you some nice, warm tummy rubs, hmm? Would you like that?

No, D. I'm not going to rub your di-

Dieter and I hope that we've managed to explain a little bit more about depression, even if you never experience it. But if you do, or are currently going through it, know that you are not alone and you will feel like yourself again.

And we are giving you the biggest hug right now.

Please be kind to yourself and know that no matter what, you are amazing. You will persevere, and you are stronger than you think you are. 🖤

If you need further help, please check out the links below:

Mind UK

Giving Guidance USA

In a crisis? Worldwide Help & Numbers

Healthline Depression & Anxiety

Ideas for coping with depression

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK. 🖤

Do you. Then do Dieter.

More Dieter & Jett love here

ℹ️ Dieter and I always strive to bring you unbiased, fact-checked advice. We're not licensed therapists, so we do a lot of research to ensure we can provide helpful and informative posts. Well, I do. Dieter mostly sits around eating KitKats.

#self care with dieter & jett #dieter bravo #dieter bravo the bubble #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #do you #then do dieter #you are stronger than you think #jett has spoken

[blackleatherjacketz]

Veritas: Chapter 3

Loki x Female Reader

Summary: Loki convinces you to take things into your own hands.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Mature Content, Explicit Smut, Manipulation, Praise Kink, Verse Loki, Power Bottom Loki, Soft Dom Loki?, Kissing, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Scratching, Biting, Hair Pulling, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Soul Bonding, Magic, Shame, Loki's Avoidant Attachment Style

Word Count: 2k+

Read the rest of the story HERE!

“Where I’m from they would have sculpted statues to display your magnificence, painted dozens of portraits for all the realms to witness the perfection of your beauty. But I want to see you step into your power.” His eyes fall down your face as he tugs on your bottom lip, grinning as he watches your mouth open for him. “Your true power.”

Within an instant he snaps his fingers, forcing your bra and underwear to disappear from your body as if they were only an illusion to begin with.

You gasp and looks down at yourself, trying your best to mask your complete and utter shock as your nipples harden against nothing; the rest of your body remaining bare before him. You knew this part was coming, that much you can be sure of. All signs had pointed to this since the very first moment you saw him, a more than familiar pattern revealing itself despite the magic and soothsaying that came along with it. He may be a god, a wizard or witch of some sort, but he’s still a man where it counts. You at least knows how to navigate around that… or so you think.

“I want to see you shed this apologetic, docile version of yourself these humans have molded you into,” he continues, releasing his grip on your face only to step away from you. “Isn’t that what you want, too?”

You nod, the tension between you palpable as his knowing gaze all but eggs you on as you notice the bulge between his thighs. It stretches the black fabric of his dress pants as he walks backward toward the bed, his upper body glowing in the changing light of the fire. His raven locks fall just above his shoulders as the back of his knees finally hit the mattress, halting him in his tracks. But instead of taking your hand and pulling you near like you expect him to, he merely stares at you knowingly, his eyebrows all but disappearing into his hairline as he waits in silence.

Oh, he wants me to…?

Your heart pounds in your chest, thumping heavily against your rib cage as the realization creeps over you like a heavy fog across a sullen morning meadow. You haven't initiated physical contact with anyone you've been with before now. You've never really had to. All the other partners you've had before him had innately taken over control, told you what to do, or simply put you in the position they wanted you in, but that wasn’t about to happen here. Not tonight. Not with him. You can see that now.

“T- take off your pants,” you tell him, hoping that your tone comes off more assertive than it feels.

He snickers as a slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, shaking his head scolding. “Don’t ask for it, darling. Demand it.”

Demand it? You've never demanded anything in your entire life before, but you guess that's the whole point of this, isn't it?

"Try again." That smirk turns into a smile as he stands his ground, shifting the weight in his hips.

Try again? Fuck, he’s serious, isn’t he?

You clear your throat and straighten your spine, standing taller than you normally would as you purposefully harden her gaze. “Take off your pants.”

“Make me,” he taunts, a twinkle in his eye showing you just how much he’s enjoying this little game of his.

Jesus.

“Take. Them. Off.” You order sternly before taking a few steps toward him, closing the gap between them as you attempt to shed all those years of submission in a matter of seconds; your hands all but shaking as they somehow find their way onto his belt. You look up into his eyes, their faint hue now darkened with want as you unfasten his buckle along with his pants, smoothing your hands beneath the earthly fabric with ease. His skin is softer than you imagined, his muscles almost malleable beneath your palms and you slide his clothes down the curves of his ass.

“That’s it,” he whispers breathily, his mouth falling slack as you finally frees him. “Now take what belongs to you.”

All of time seems to stop as his request unlocks something deep inside of you. Each caress and embrace before this had merely picked the tiny parts of the lock open until his magical phrase finally turned the key; clicking everything into place.

Take what belongs to you, you repeat in your head.

You push him onto his back, the soft comforter muffling his fall as he lays there, ready and waiting while you allow the fantasy to take over. You let herself believe that a god among men really wants you to let go of everything you know, to relinquish all your inhibitions as he lays willingly at your feet; a sacrifice for the greater good. He’s perfect, an obscene image of absolute beauty as his enormity bobs in full view between his thighs, a single droplet of precum giving away his eagerness to aid in your spiritual transformation. His hands remain patiently at his sides as you crawl onto the bed, his muscles visibly twitching in anticipation as you rakes her fingernails across his skin, forcing his body to roll into your painful touch.

“What belongs to me?” You repeat his words back to him as you scratch the tougher skin on his upper thighs, gliding your nails over his hips as he bucks up in response.

“I do,” he tells you through hooded lids, balling his hands into fists as you pierce little white trails up his abdomen and down his pelvis again, leaving your mark as you get closer to his groin each and every time. “I belong to you.”

“Just like that?” You tease, getting into character more easily now that he’s beneath you. You lick your lips and look down at his shaft, practically begging to be touched as you graze your fingers between his thighs, almost close enough to touch him this time.

“Yes,” he admits, biting his lower lip as you finally spit on the head of his cock. “Yes, just like that.”

“Good.” You grasp him in your palm, feeling your own moisture begin to collect at your center as you stroke him with ease, your own saliva oozing down his member and between your fingers. You watch his face twist in pleasure as you gently lick his tip up and down, over and over again before slowly opening your mouth to take him past your lips. He tastes so much different than any other man you've had before, his impressive girth pushing against your tongue as you relax your throat to savor that almost… refreshing flavor of his flesh.

You can feel his hand on the back of your head as you take in more of him, his long fingers weaving their way into your hair as you consumes every inch with growing fervor. His grip tightens once your lips become flush with his pelvis, your spit now spilling down between his thighs as you nearly gag before coming up for air and starting all over again. You can hear him whisper your name, his voice faint and ethereal, somehow distant yet near. His body writhes beneath you with each thirsty pass over his cock, his fingers all but ripping the hair out of your head before you eventually slow your pace, quieting down his grateful whimpering. Reluctantly, you pull your messy lips off of him with an audible pop, kissing a trail up his shaft one more time before winking at him.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, you know that, darling?” He smooths his hands through your hair as you climb up and straddle his hips, resisting the urge to thrust up inside you as you carefully hover over him.

Instead of flipping you over and having his way with you like he’s used to doing with so many others before, he lets you grab him at his base, squeezing just enough to brew a subtle growl from his throat before spreading your clear coat of neediness over the tip of his dick. Back and forth you go, like a paint brush over both of your most pleasurable spots, coloring their skin in multiple shades of iridescent hues that only the two of you can begin to see.

“Isn’t this so much easier?” He breathes heavily as he tries to hold back his release, grazing his hands down your body as you continue your good work. “Giving into your desires instead of fighting them?”

“Mmm hmm,” you moan as you use his body to send yourself through the roof, that last magical push of his head over your clit making your body quiver in a bright rainbow of sheer delight.

“It’s what you were made for.” He grasps onto your hips as he watches you come undone, pulling you down onto him as your muscles involuntarily squeeze around him. “What you were born to do.”

That line from before burns a bright white as the two of you finally connect, hot to the touch as it slithers inside you both, moving your spines in time with one another as he rises up to kiss your lips, completing that perfect circle. It bonds you together in a way you can feel but can’t quite comprehend, fusing you together as if you'd always been a part of one another, your carnal reunion now blatantly obvious in its inevitability. In this moment, you can’t remember anything else before him, how you survived your mundane life without his touch to excite you, his kiss to calm you or his voice to ring in your ears.

You can feel him stretch your muscles to capacity, holding you in place as he glides in and out of you with moans so beautiful, you swear you've never heard anything like them before. They only seem to enhance your pleasure as you rise and fall around him, drawing out moans of your own as your fingers get tangled in his hair in an attempt to bring him closer, to taste more of his mouth, but it’s no use. The chorus of his moans mixes in with yours and the steady beat of his upward thrusts until your orgasm forces him to slip up and surrender completely. He can’t help but cry out your name, a muffled plea against your lips as you breaks his threshold, holding onto you for dear life as he coats the inside of your slick, swollen walls with his automatic release.

Your smooth grip pulsates every last drop out of him as your legs find their way around his waist. They tighten around his hips as he continues to frantically spill his pleasure into you until there’s absolutely nothing left. You shudder around him, resting your forehead against his as you convulse together in unison, refusing to break contact even the slightest bit. You relish in the feeling of his sweat blending with yours as it coats your skin, the sensation of his hands on your body and the sound of his heavy breath deepening as his convulsions slowly die down.

“How good does that feel, taking what you want for once?” He kisses you again, closing his eyes to savor the sweetness of your lips before moving on to taste the flavor of your neck as he feels himself ooze out of you and onto his pelvis.

“Good,” you whisper, gasping as he bites down onto your clavicle and sucks a deep bruise just below it. “Different at first, but … really good.”

“Well, we’ll have plenty of time for you to practice.” He mouths his way down your chest, lifting your arm up to continue his path of kisses beneath your armpit until the sharp angle of his nose forces you to clench down around him again, halting his own breath in response. “To become who you were always meant to be.” He slowly inhales the pheromones emanating from your axilla, eyes rolling back into his head as he takes in your natural scent. “Before we move onto other things.”

“Other things?” You cradle his face in your hands, forcing him to look up at you as his hands find their way onto your backside, squeezing your cheeks.

“You deserve so much more than what you’ve been given,” he tells you earnestly, the iciness returning to his stare. “So much more than how they’ve treated you.”

You stare at him, all the pleasure and praise almost numbing you into forgetting that he told you about a rage he carries around with him as well. How could you continue letting him dote upon you like this without making an effort to return the favor?

“And how have you been treated?”

Loki clenches his jaw at the question, eyes watering before quickly peeling your hands off his face and setting them down at your side. “It’s time to rest now, don’t you think?”

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki #loki series #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fan fiction #tom hiddleston #loki imagine

[direwombat]

happy wip wednesday and first day of nanowrimo y'all

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton (tysm~ <3)

tagging @trench-rot, @cassietrn, @strangefable, @voidika, @madparadoxum, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman, @josephslittledeputy, @inafieldofdaisies, @g0dspeeed, @simplegenius042, @miyabilicious, @strafethesesinners, @confidentandgood, @jillvalentinesday, @poetikat, and anyone else with something to share! (also to be added/removed to the taglist, please like/unlike this post here)

here's the intro to the scene directly after this halloween treat i posted of syb getting bit and her transformation. she's havin' a normal one. tw for emetophobia

Sybille comes to consciousness to the light of dawn filtering through the canopy of leaves overhead. 

Her head is pounding, a throbbing pain trapped inside her skull, and she winces as she hesitantly cracks her eyes open. She lets out a groan. The world is overwhelmingly bright. Most of the trees in the county are still changing colors, but here in the mountains, a good number have started to shed their leaves. What little shade they can provide, it isn’t enough to spare the burning to her eyes. 

She lies on the ground, naked as the day she was born, and covered in dirt and blood. She sits up and presses her palm to her forehead, and the second she does, her body is set alight with pain. Every muscle screams at her with an ache so deep that it goes down to the marrow of her bones. Shallow cuts and scratches are littered across her body, from the soles of her bare feet to the blood trickling down her cheek. Yet, while the pain flashes white-hot through her, she’s also fucking freezing. The hair on her arms and back of neck stand on end and through chattering teeth, her breath comes out in visible puffs in front of her. A violent shudder rolls through her, her body desperately trying to ward off the chill.

“Jesus Christ,” she moans, and she runs her hand through her hair, knocking loose leaves, twigs, and pine needles. The sweet, coppery tang of blood sits heavy on the back of her tongue and in her throat, and as she runs her tongue over her teeth — normal teeth — she finds sinewy bits of meat stuck between them.

Her stomach clenches and heaves at the realization and she rolls over onto her hands and knees to expel the rising bile. Only it isn’t just her own stomach acid that splatters onto the forest floor below her. An inordinate amount of blood and chunky pieces of partially digested meat and viscera splash below her. Her throat burns and her eyes sting, prickling with tears, as more and more blood erupts from her mouth. Jesus Christ, this all can’t be hers, can it?

It ain’t. Just deer’s blood.

She gasps her way through the dry-heaves once she’s expelled the last of it from her stomach, grimacing at what appears to be flecks of bone floating in the pool beneath her. Her belly aches, empty and cramping, and she spits a thick, foamy pink wad onto the ground.  Wiping the blood and spittle dripping off her chin, she takes a moment to catch her breath. Ragged pants eventually even out into deeper, rasping inhalations that actually fill her lungs. 

“Okay,” she wheezes. “We’re okay…we’re okay…”

She lifts her head — to take in her surroundings and get her bearings — but as she does, she’s met with the bloody carcass of an elk right in front of her. Its belly is ripped wide open, with its entrails spilling out onto the ground. Dead, milky white eyes stare back at her, and a fly crawls right over one of them, pausing directly on the eyeball to clean itself of the blood on its little insect legs. 

The kill is fresh. No more than an hour or two old. The blood and body are still warm, and the distinctive stench of rot has yet to set in, although she can definitely tell that it’s beginning to sour.

It’s almost a shame to let so much meat go to waste. 

And then she catches the chunky bits of meat sitting in her vomit-blood and the color drains from her face. All signs point to the poor elk being killed by an animal — wolves — but why would they abandon their prey instead of bringing pieces back to their pack? And why would they have let her get so close to such a fresh kill? Why the fuck did she, in what she can only assume was a fugue state, feel compelled to partake in feeding off this kill?

And why does she have the urge to press her fingers into the gaping wound and lick the thick, clotting blood off her fingers?

She shakes her head to free the thought. The dizziness is enough of a distraction to drown out the intrusive thought, but not to quiet it entirely. She’s so thirsty. She’s so hungry. 

She was hungry last night, too, wasn’t she?

Her head throbs again, and she crawls over to a nearby tree to lean against as she shakily rises to her feet. Pressing her hand to her forehead again, she screws her eyes shut, trying to recall the events of last night. The fuck happened?

She remembers dicking around at the office with Joey. 

She remembers Nancy patching a call through to her desk phone. 

She remembers Jacob’s voice on the other end. “One of my workers didn’t show up for the final check-in…no one’s been able to get a hold of him…we rounded up a search party…he’s stew meat now.”

She remembers driving up to the Veterans Center, only to find the place empty. And then…

And then…

Christ, what happened after that? Her jaw clenches, trying to focus on her memories, but all she gets is a blur of emotions. Fear, pain, rage, and then, eventually, hunger. 

Hunger…

God, she’s so hungry her gums ache. 

But her stomach can wait. She needs to find her way back to the Veterans Center and get back to her cruiser. She needs to let the Sheriff’s Department know what’s going on. Let them know about last night. 

She needs to let Eli know she’s alright. 

Shit, where are her clothes?

#wip wednesday #wip: the horror and the wild #everything subject to change yadda yadda #for what it's worth this scene does end in syb getting comforted by eli (who she eventually calls to come get her) #but also this will not be the first time she wakes up in the woods. naked and covered in blood and missing memories

[zuffer-weird-girl]

hihi may i ask for dabi and shigaraki reaction to a perfumer (ss skin, whatever that means-)-like fem s/o from identity v? here's a little link so u can see the character i'm talking about, specifically.

so like the s/o is bound to a sanctuary (imagine watatsumi island from genshin or whatevah idk)

and like her quirk is like being able to manipulate water, and make the water into a solid material or furniture or somethingg

and they like butterflies and there's a fuck ton on her hair, markings/tattoos on her thigh and left part of her forehead and shit and she can walk on water like jesus or sumn'

SUMN' LIKE THAT-

you're probably reading everything in a confused state— damn i should really know how to word things at this age 😰

also i say like too often 🧍🏻srry ab that-

anyway look at how pretty she is 🙄 like-

🧍🏻... 🧎🏻.. oh no what's- happening.. 🦋

I HAVE NO SHAME ON NOT BEING ON ANON 🤬😍😘💀

Got to say I'm sorry for taking so long and that video was awesome to watch thank you

Dude you guys are total opposites and this little shit lives for that.

The first time he saw your quirk on action he was like "eh, suits you."

When in reality he is so fucking proud like- that's my s/o motherfucker

When his body overheats due to his quirk you usually tend to go over him and help him literally cool off and he is so grateful for you

Not gonna lie, he finds pretty weird the amount of butterflies on your hair... one time when he was about to kiss you he almost gagged when one almost got in his mouth.

But still finds cute how much you are obsessed with them.

Although now he is one careful when near you... just in case he doesn't accidentally eats a butterfly

Always gets headaches after he sees you walking on water like is normal. Why? Because his eyes go so wide his staples pop out of his skin sometimes.

He is... not used to it. And doesn't show it, but he is hella concerned because what if you fall?

Your tattoo are the ones who is obsessed with. Is just so fucking cool and he can't help but everything Brush his fingers on the drawings of your forehead or thighs with a skirt on his face.

Thinks your hella beautiful with them them whoever dares to say otherwise is going to get burned alive like witches were in the middle aged era

His words, not mine.

Thinks your quirk is pretty much like a rpg character power

Is so useful for his plan so he allows you to go on missions, but definitely not with dabi.

Fire and water don't mix. And he won't stand a chance of you going near that zombie walking asshole.

But still is confused cause... how tf can you transform liquid on a fucking gamer chair?!

He is still grateful and is his favorite present given of you to him.

Cringes at the mere thought of you getting your tattoos

He thinks they're cool and all... but something about getting hurt continuously on your forehead and thighs just to form those drawings gives him itches...

Waves the butterflies out of your hair most of the times and threatens to kill them.... pls is nothing personal but the sign of them irritates him for some reason.

Stole gave you a butterfly plushie once but almost got into a panick attack when he accident decayed it and was repeating the word sorry for... a long time.

Joked about you being Jesus more times than the numbers of your fingers and toes.

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shimura tenko x reader #bnha villains x reader #zuffer writings #bnha villains hcs

[boliv-jenta]

Modern Oberyn Martell x f!reader.

Smut.🔞 p in v sex. Oral m!receiving. Language.

Oberyn gives you a very personalised workout.

"Your form is a little off." His deep, accented voice startled you. Shit. I thought he didn't work this late. You had purposely been working out at night to avoid him. Your cheeks and other parts couldn't take the burn any more when he spoke to you.

He was hands down the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in real life. Apparently he used to be a competitive swimmer. You could definitely see that. Powerful, broad shoulders and strong biceps working to drag him through the water. His large hands cutting through the water like a hot knife through butter. His thick thighs propelling him. If his body wasn't tempting enough. His face wouldn't look out of place in a museum, carved out of marble. He had the profile of a Roman God. An aquiline nose, complimented by a strong jaw. Said jaw was framed with dark hair, a mustache sat atop of his perfectly pouted lips.

"Erm..h-how?" You managed to get out around your tongue that suddenly felt all too bit for your mouth. See if his mouth is big enough for it.

"May I..?" He held out his large hands, with his long, thick probably dexterous, fingers towards you.

"Okay."

Placing his hand on your lower back he pushed forward slightly. His other hand gripped your shoulder better aligning your spine. "There. Now try." You tried another squat.

"Better?"

"Yeah, actually."

"You sound surprised." He laughed lightly. God, it was melodic. "I am very well versed in the female form."

You nearly drop the kettle bell in your hand. He had to stop talking like that. In the few brief conversations you'd had in the past, you were never sure if he was using double entendres or he if it was a language barrier. Maybe he did mean to sound so...flirty.

"Really?" You managed to safely put the kettle bell down to pick your water bottle up.

"From my previous job."

"Swimmer?"

"No." He pursed his lips in thought. "Am not sure if this word is used in America but we would say gigolo."

Jesus Christ! You spat your mouthful of water everywhere.

"Easy, mi amor." He handed you your towel as you recovered. Wiping yourself off you calmed your breathing.

"Sorry. Just of all the words you could have said, I wasn't expecting that one."

"No? Do you not think a woman would like me to escort her?"

He was still in arms reach after giving you the towel. An amused smirk played on his lips. I want to play on his lips. With my body. He moved closer as you spoke.

"No. I mean. No, not that. I think women would pay a lot of money for you to escort them. A lot. I would pay a lot..." Did I just say that out loud?

The door to the gym opened, Oberyn stopped his advance towards you. "It's a shame I don't charge anymore." He whispered before walking, no, sauntering, who the fuck actually saunters, off to see who came in. What the hell was that?! Was that flirting? Was he suggesting he would 'escort' you for free? Normally, you would shower at home, tonight you stood in the gym shower and cranked it as cold as possible.

The next night, you'd almost finished your workout when you heard his laugh. Deep and throaty this time. You thought you'd smelt his aftershave when you walked in. It was distinctive. Rich, woody tones with a hint of something sweet. It definitely stood out amongst the sea of Axe body spray and Old Spice.

"I was hoping you'd be here." Damn, he moved like a cat. You hadn't heard his light footsteps returning from seeing a client out. "Yeah. I changed my routine. Seems like you did too." To continue to ruin my underwear collection day by day.

"Yes. I have a new day job." If he says gigolo in that accent again today's panties will be destroyed too. "I am trying to be a chef."

Handsome and he cooks? For fuck's sake, how are you supposed to workout here now when every time you do, he drops more information on you that builds your crush further.

"A chef?" You asked.

"Yes. It's my passion." The way he said 'passion' made you feel very passionate. About riding his cock. About supporting someone to chase their dreams. I dream about rid..."Do you want to try something I made? Chocolate soufflé bites." Handsome, cooks, has a giant penis, you just assume, and a chocolate soufflé hook up? Wow. While you had been listing his impressive attributes, and day dreaming about the ones that you just assume are impressive, he'd returned with a pastry box.

"Here." He popped one into you mouth. The richness hit your tongue before you chewed. Fuck, that was heavenly. He popped one in his own mouth, licking his thumb as he did. Panties officially ruined for today.

"Good?" He asked tongue cleaning off his lips.

"Yes. Very." You tried to remember how to breath. Breath in, 1,2,3,4,5, breathe out, 1,2,3,4,5. "You have something here. He wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb. Breath out, 2,4,7,9,50,π, your brain almost lost it. It completely did when he kissed you. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Hot Instructor. Kissing. Your body filled in when your brain checked out. You kissed him back hands finding his broad back as he pulled your waist close.

"I hope that was okay." He asked when he finally released you. Okay? I saw the face of God. I was agnostic. My toes curled so much I ripped my Nikes.

"Yeah, was okay."

"I've seen the way you look at me. This life is so short and can be so dark. Why deny yourself pleasure?"

Embarrassment. Like I though someone like you would want to kiss someone like me.

"I like the way you think."

"Good." He took your hand and began to kiss along it like some super fit Gomez Adams. He went right along to your neck. Once he reached your ear he whispered. "How about you let me take you into the office and show you some more of life's pleasures?"

The word yes barely left your mouth before he lifted you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. His strong arms made light work of carrying you to the office. Placing you on the desk he locked the office door behind you. Pressed the button for the shutter on the main door. Once he was satisfied you wouldn't be interrupted he was between your legs kissing you. His large hand slipped between you teasing you through your shorts. "Can I take of your clothes?"

"I'd rather you take off yours." With a firm nod he stripped off his jacket exposing his golden, tawny skin stretch over taut muscle. With a smile he pulled his track pants straight down in one tug. The sight that met you almost had you covering your eyes. It made you feel indecent just to look at it. He had the largest cock you had seen outside of porn. Definitely a good fit for the Big Cock section of Bellesa. Well I'm out, I can't help you with that thing. Your brain promptly checked out. Your body sprang into action. Your knees hit the floor in front of him before taking him into your mouth. Sucking on it? That thing could puncture a lung if he fucked you with it and your first instinct is to suck it? Good luck. I hope you lose an eye on that thing. Your body kept moving of it's own according bobbing up and down on him. Cheeks hollowing on every pass of his cock head.

"Fuck." He gritted. "Stop." He hauling you up and helped you back on the desk. Shoving his hand down your shorts he found you soaked.

"I brought you back here for your pleasure not my own. Not that I won't enjoy this." With a flick of his wrist he managed to bury two fingers in you while his palm brushed against your clit. It was always a worry when dating in a big city that going home with a strange man could get you killed. You didn't picture it quite like this. Death by exquisite orgasm from a sexy gigolo soufflè chef. Your whole body got a better workout than it had earlier as all your muscles spasmed as your climax rocked you. He licked his fingers clean. So fucking hot. Before bending to fish a condom out of his pocket. He just had that in there? Actually am not surprised. People must try and jump him all day long. Question withdrawn.

Your brain shut down again as his giant member entered you. It all went by in a flurry of movement. It was like an out of body experience and you only caught pieces of it. That aftershave settling on your own skin. The stretch of his cock. His moans. The grunts as he snapped his hips into you. The incredible sensation spreading from your pussy into every fibre of your being. Every molecule being ripped apart and slammed back into each other. Him breathing your name as he filled the condom. Fuck, did I really just do that? Don't ask me. The Pussy is in charge now. She got you this far. She's clearly smarter. Mmm, I like these chemicals. Make the sexy gym man make more of them. Adios.

Once he discarded the condom he wrapped his jacket around you while he looked for your shorts and panties. When did they come off? Actually? Just before he got the condom. Spiritually? The second he looked at you. Now, ssshhh! You're harshing my buzz. Hey, Giant Cock Gym Man is speaking.

"Did you enjoy that?"

"Mmmm. Wait, why? Didn't you?!" Panic struck you.

"I did. I just wanted to make sure you were satisfied." He chuckled.

"Completely." Don't say that. Say no. Get more cock. More happy brain juice.

"Good, so I am. For now anyway. Maybe next time I can cook for you?"

"I'd like that." Long term cock getting plans. Good girl.

Oberyn helped you slip you shorts back on before slipping his business card in your pocket.

Once you got home you sat on the sofa, trying to figure out if it had all been a dream. The business card and the dull ache between your legs were proof. His card read 'Oberyn Martell Person Trainer'. Under was his number and 'Available for personal workouts.' For a second you wondered what job this card was from. Well, personally I think that worked out pretty well. For once you and your brain were in agreement.

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #oberyn x you #oberyn martell #oberyn martell smut #modern au

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Only unfuckable bat rogue that comes to mind is the bookworm simply because his whole glasses schtick alongside the leather suite would make the clothes taking off segmant absolutely unbearable in my opinion. Just such a fucking nerd, combined with the absolute swamp created by head to toe leather, I couldn't do it.

I almost said Mr. Freeze too, considering what his body temperature would do to one's jussy/wang/whatever, but I figured he'd probably be game for some strap(from his wife ofc, if we're talking post animated series) , so he's still on the board.

Honorable unfuckable mention is shame, bc I could do it, but Jesus H. Christ, he's literally just a cowboy, he's so fucking bland, he's a less cool version of milf and bad bitch ma parker.

hi I think it's fascinating that THIS GUY is all you can come up with for unfuckable villains is this comparatively normal man

#least fuckable batman villains

[messervixen]

The Marauders and people as things my Friends and I have said Part 2

Marlene (to James): You can tell all your other guy friends that a bunch of gay girls were putting flowers in your hair.

Alice: Give yourself a beard. Be normal.

Remus: Get in the chair.

Sirius: Cucumbers so sexy.

Pandora: Oh no, my fishbowl!

Alice: And Jesus would say “oh my god”.

Regulus: I’m not gonna let that happen because you’re not that amazing.

Barty: You’re the mentally insane version of your grandma.

Regulus: I am emotionally attached to this ruler.

Barty: I’m bored, let’s fry my goldfish.

Sirius: Don’t say the fuck word.

Mary: If I were a kidnapper, I would totally pick you.

Peter: I need my gummy bears so I can kill people.

Pandora: These poles are actually really good for pole dancing.

Sirius: This guy looks like he would hang out in a dumpster with me.

Marlene: That name is perfect for a gay bottom.

Barty: Broski was originated from the Russian president Taylor Swift.

Sirius: So I’m not like the pope…, I’m god.

James: Please stand up and hit the griddy for demonstration.

Sirius: I am a professional look good-er.

Marlene: Weird question, are you gay?

Regulus: The only animal I have in my house is my brother.

Pandora: Friends are like flowers. If you eat them, they die.

Remus: I want to get run over.

Marlene: He just wiggled like a gay man.

James: It’s not burnt, it’s just ripe.

Regulus: Go die.

Evan: Kids in the backseat cause accidents and accidents in the backseat cause kids.

Lily: Don’t body shame the thick bread.

Sirius: I’m not a British gay, I’m an American straight.

Marlene: Get gayed.

Sirius: My mom just made a very PG-13 word sequence.

Marlene: If you eat your child is that cannibalism or incest?

Lily: I’d be hot as a flower.

Evan: I’m technically not a virgin. In Hawaii a wave shot up my ass.

Regulus: Mommy I want a penis, why is it not growing?

Mary: Your butt is being used for the greater good.

Marlene: Do you think demons suck on toes?

Barty: Regulus is my sugar daddy.

James and Regulus in CR: I would have four kids with that man.

Sirius (About Remus): I would literally let him fuck me with a knife handle.

Dorcas: If there were no babies made then there’s nothing to feel guilty about.

Peter: Did you just call your own dad hot?

Sirius: My friends want me, mother.

Marlene: You can tell he’s gay by the way he looks out that window.

James: Nothing gets kinkier than a knife.

Regulus: Apparently I’m running from the trauma of my past.

Sirius: What you did to me on that table is going to leave some bruises.

Frank: Okay we are not raping a dead body.

Barty: I’ll take it as payment.

Peter: Do you have a knee caressing fetish?

Regulus in CR: Oh my god he has a sexy axe.

#marauders era #marauders #sirius black #regulus black #slytherin skittles #barty crouch junior #evan rosier #padfoot #james & peter & remus & sirius #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #pandora lovegood #pandora lestrange #pandora rosier #pandora #dorcas meadowes #lily evens #mary macdonald #marlene mckinnon #alice fortescue #frank longbottom #incorrect quotes #quotes #friend quotes #some of these were said during dnd games I swear none of us rape dead bodies #or living ones #i apologise in advance

[gayspock]

ok enterprise eppy 1 liveblog

awwhrhh awwww. awhehhghhgh. aweehhghghgh. aowow. sorry. yeah ehrm well im scared of archer fyi but this little intro with a crumb of archer is really rather darling ... i love a little gent who makes model ships. you cant get much better than that. shame he becomes scott bakula but what can you do

Omg...t he like quality of this is also really disconcerting . hewwo. its like theres different freaking camera angles for reals. madness.

th

NOOOOO NOT A SILLY PUTTY BEASTS... HANG ON DIDNT I MAKE A POST AND PEOPLE WARNED ME ABOUT THEM. OH GOODNESS ME

bro why did you shoot my friend. my friend the klin- FTHE UFKCING INTRO I ALREADY KNOW THIS...

IM GOING TO VOM MAYBE.

CAUSE IVE GOT FAITH. OF THE HEART. IM GOING WHERE MY HEART WILL TAKE ME. IVE GOT F

also i dont want to be unfair to enterprise but i am going in with reservations bc i know, like, some vague ongoings with it that make me raise an eyebrow and i am sorta going in this antiicpating taking the piss a BIT more than with others, and i will say love the intro i dont care i love the song the lyrics so funny BUT the visuals are also making me freaking piss myself im so sory.... this is so early 2000s american core...

i cant tell the men apart yet.. thats one of the white blokes.

mister archer isnt AS scary with this little supernatural getup. sorry to call it a supernatural getup. sorry. early 2000s white man core. aesthetic. whatever. sorryyyyyy. stupid brown coat and jeans that are melting on the body.

be quiet archer.

ARCHER..... DO NOT......

LEAVE MY FRIEND THE KLINGON ALONE.... MANS GOT SHOT. GET OUT OF THERE ITS QUITE RUDE...

hes britissh

why did no one put a tw: british cunt on this fucking sh-

WAIT NO SOMEONE TOLD ME MALCY MOO WAS BRITISH BUT STILL FUCKING. THAT ACCENT. SCARY. WHY CANT THEY EVER JUST BE NORMAL BRITISH.

i like travis he's cute isnt he

you are all being so freaking mean to the vulcans. i'll kill you- wait---- HI PORIYHTOOOSSOSO HI PUPPY HI BABYYYYY AWWW MWAH MWAH WHOS A GOOD LITTLE BABY BOO.....

i like phlox hi phlox isnt phlox quite lovely

archer do not look at his feet youfreak.

PHLOX'S SMSIELELELLELEE

HE SAID: :>

HE SAID THAT

HE SAID ^v^ he said THAT

can everyone just be fucking nice to t'pol ive notfelt the stress since tos i forgot you guys are so rude all of the time to my friends the vulcans, my best friends the vulcans....

the girls are fighting.... sad face... why msutwomen fight. women should love women. soapy. smile.

again with malcy moos voice. JEUSUS- FUCKING HANG ON NEVERMIND THE PUTTY PALS ARE FUCKING SQUIRMING ALL OVER,

THEYRE FUCKING WRIGGLING LIKE BEASTS

anywaybefore i was rudely interrupted by interprative dance type creatures i was going to reitera- JESUS ITS LIKE A SPIDER IT KEEPS GOING SORYR- i was about to reiterate that malcolms accent specifically like i thought the actor was british but also theres soemthing so exaggerated .... i cannot cope

can you show some fucking enthusiasm for phlox. hes so phreaking polite. and you are not showing the enthusiasm he is due.

i like trips accent though isnt it fun. i dont know the difference between american accents but it has that quality to it. like an elastic band .. bwang. ^_^

again with the effects. so scary. will it always be this scary . i need to be held gently. like how tos held me gently.

but also its so nice to be visiting actual places... god. it feels like so long like- OH MY GOD LTIERALLY BUTTERFLIES SO GOOD OMGGG even if . well this is rather ... cheeky - but yes well sigh. i always got a little frustrated with how limited tng was. but smile i hope we get so many little adventures toplaces like this ... like how tos was. smile..........

t'pol is literally saving grace here..... goodness fucking gracious.

hoshi is s o pretty btw smile

DOES ARCHER HAVE EARRINGS ? DID I MISSEE?

okay thTSTHe halfway point im going to break now nods (walks away)

#Egg.txt #star trek liveblog #im not liveblogging all eps from now ijsut thought first one . shruggies. #well first and second since 2 parts but ehrm

[lilacastar]

KDA 21: Standby

"Sorry that was a bust, Kalrick." 5K said.

"It's fine," Kalrick responded. "I think she's holding something back, but at least I know the church needs to be my next step. A shame we have to wait till Sunday."

He ducked into the passenger seat next to the driver, but Randle didn't look over at all. So much so, it felt deliberate.

"Why do you think she's disk, diskon- not honest?" 5K stuttered.

"I don't know. Just felt like she had more to say, but I've been feeling that way about everyone lately." He turned to Randle, who refused to look at him. "What do you think?"

Randle shrugged. "Doesn't really matter what I think."

"Why wouldn't it." He replied flatly.

"Never mind." He huffed.

Whatever. If he wanted to say what was wrong, he should just outright say it.

The rest of the car ride was spent with 5K making random remarks and commentary, then himself providing a half-assed response. Randle continued to ignore the both of them.

The car parked, but Randle left the car running, making no move to get out and follow the other two.

"You coming?" Kalrick asked.

"You guys can just go ahead."

5K closed his door. "Alright then, have fun going home." He turned and started for the apartment.

Kalrick sighed, opening his arms in a defeated gesture. "Okay, why?"

"You don't even care," he rolled his eyes. "You're busy with research"

"Well I wouldn't be asking if I didn't care, now would I?"

"Oh come on!" 5K shouted, at the door already and fumbling with his keys. "We all know you just want him to convince you what's wrong."

Randle sat in the car, mouth open in attempts to respond, but failed. Thank you 5K, for the right amount of poor impulse control. It was so effective, he did indeed follow Kalrick and 5K into the apartment without another word.

"I need to smoke," 5K exasperated. "let me know when the bullshit is over."

Jesus, he really did need to smoke again with this attitude. Randle was sensitive at times, but it's not like he went out of his way to be rude to 5K.

Kalrick rolled his eyes then led Randle by the hand to his room. Both of them were so dramatic.

"Ok, for real." Kalrick shut the door behind him. "What is your problem? You keep doing one thing and saying another."

"What are you talking about?" he sighed. "you guys are the ones who have a problem with me."

"Because you keep getting in a mood for no reason."

"If there wasn't a reason, I wouldn't be in a mood."

"Then tell me what the hell is going on! I just don't understand you right now. You say you don't want to be my friend again, then hang out with me like you do. You say you do want to be my friend then act like you don't. You're down to help me, then act like you don't want to be there the entire time."

"Well, maybe you don't need my help if Valery has been so much more helpful." Randle huffed.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" The infinite bounds of patience he once held for this special person, started to leak out the cracks of his body.

The lack of eye contact being made answered the question for him.

"You're jealous," He couldn't contain his historical laughter before finishing the thought. "Of the goth girl I don't even remember fucking, who I am not attracted to because I am attracted to men, because I held a conversation with her?"

"You can't pretend like you didn't see the way she was looking at you."

"You. Are. Delusional! I cannot believe what you are saying."

"Free cover up? Are we just going to ignore how outrageously expensive that normally would cost?"

"But you admit to being jealous! What the fuck are you jealous of, you literally said we can't be friends too soon."

"That's not what I said."

"That is what you said, don't gaslight me."

"Fine, that's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean? I felt like shit when you told me you didn't want to see me, but you keep coming around like you do, then said we'd give it another try."

"I do want to see you, ok? I said that because you just jumped back into my life without warning and I finally thought I moved on. And now you're here, so very much you and the same Kalrick I used to know. But you're also so different."

"I couldn't tell you felt that way by how you've been treating me."

"And I'm sorry for that," He sighed. "I'm just trying to slow down on the emotional whiplash I'm going through, and I don't know. I guess trying to not get my hopes up too high in case this isn't real at all."

"You still like hanging out with me?"

"Yes!" His arms gestured dramatically. "You know how hard it has been to remain calm? When I dropped you off the first time, I was trying not to laugh my ass off because of how funny you are."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I like you, I really liked you. It's just hard to be around you when I haven't sorted everything in my head. I tried to put it aside, but it just came out today with Valery."

"Then what are we? I mean, what are you wanting to do?"

"I want to help you. When we finish your closure project, let's see how we go from there."

"Revenge." Kalrick corrected.

"Revenge? Isn't that a bit..."

"Badass? Why yes, it is."

"I was going to say childish. What's that going to accomplish, and how do you get revenge on something... that's not here."

"I have a plan." he said confidently.

"You've yet to explain the process of this plan."

"It'll work out, I promise. I just need more information on what I was doing before I got possessed and during. So far the only thing it seemed to do during, was worship the sigil and physical pleasure."

"Where'd the money come from?"

"Money?"

"Your rent money you paid 5K with. You quit working 5 months ago, so where'd the rest of the money come from?"

He was right. There was no way he'd saved enough to live off that long. And the demonic had to eat too. Probably.

"Maybe it cashed from my bank?" Kalrick asked with little confidence. "I always pay with my phone, maybe it had to cash it in person since it didn't touch my phone."

"You could check your statement online."

"This is why I need you, Randle."

"For basic solutions?"

"Yes, I'm probably not even average intelligence anymore. And that used to be my biggest accomplishment."

"Don't say that."

But it was true. It was his very best to get average grades in school, and constantly struggled with just being below a problem. To not get in trouble for strange interests or behaviors and disappointing his mom, meant he won. If existing took that much effort just to be average, it was no wonder he ended up without a career and straight into customer service. And then demonic possession, naturally.

He pulled up the banking website on his phone, waiting for it to load and braced for the negative impact. It'd be alright, no matter the damage. He'd already failed this badly, his mom's only child and biggest disappointment. He was everything she didn't understand, might as well add massive debt to the list of things she didn't want for him.

The page refreshed, displaying... an amount just above 45,000 dollars. He couldn't comprehend what he was looking at. How? Why was it there?

Randle placed a hand over his own in comfort. "Hey, it's ok." He soothed. "Maybe we can contact some sort of debt service. Or identify theft."

Kalrick only turned the screen around and displayed the bank account.

"Oh-" he hushed.

"I have money." He declared the obvious.

Randle shook his head. "Don't spend it yet."

"Dude I have over 45K in my bank, this is compensation for ruining my life."

"You don't know where it came from, and since you don't have a job you should be using it to live off until you're recovered enough to get one. That's a lot of money, but it goes fast when you don't have income and your roommate is an addict."

"He's doing a good job."

"But my point still stands."

Unfortunately it did. But what would it hurt to just spend a little? He should definitely consult 5K, he'd hopefully agree.

"We'll come back to that, but I can't deny that you're right on where it came from. Our biggest lead is that Baptist church. For now we'll just have to standby until Sunday."

"What'll you do in the meantime?"

"I don't know. Probably smoke with 5K and dig through my stuff. I want to avoid my mom, but I just feel like I'm so close to remembering something important. I feel like she's somehow related to what I'm searching for, but it's buried somewhere and every time we talk it just turns into a fight until I forget what I was asking."

Randle stared back at him with a strange look. Concern? Fear? No, none of those, but he still couldn't place it.

"What?" He mumbled. He'd probably ranted too much, sounding like a middle schooler, no doubt emotionally stunted from trauma.

"You really don't remember, do you?"

"Clearly not?" He shrugged. How was he supposed to know if he didn't even provide context?

"It's just." He paused, wistfully. Kalrick could nearly see his eyes go back to another time. "It's just, you said nearly the same exact thing right before you dropped off my world."

#KDA #KDA 21

[taxfraudhousewife]

how far do i go back before i can stop feeling guilty

i know it wasn’t me just my blood

closest i’ll ever get to sweet white guilt

guilt any european might hold so it shouldn’t matter

from sand made soil by way of blood and salt

from soil never mine but i still long like it is

i don’t care — not me

from soil steeped in seasonal flood

from red the poppies grow

i don’t care — not me

if they came for the jews and the slavs and the gays and the muslims

fuck am i supposed to do with that

if they came for the healers and artists

then i have no choice right

i don’t care — not me

if it’s everyone but me might as well shower with them

i got lucky

the right mix of jew and slav and gay and muslim can be nothing at all

the right mix gets to be niece and cousin of everyone else dragged away

why now and not two years ago

is that what happens when you see one palestinian kids brain fall out her fuckin head

maybe it’s actually the worst thing i’ve seen

is that good or bad

every weird fuckin execution makes me think of you

is that what your last waking seconds were

cold and hungry and probably better off dead

i didnt get the humiliation part of genocide until now

it makes me think of you were your last few years spent ashamed

was it cause of how you turned out

do you blame them like i do

you blame them by the masses i know

but by the man do you blame them

had you not been ethnically cleansed would you personally still turn out like that

i hate them hard like it would bring you back

i know you’d hate it but the thought of you fills me with hate for them

you don’t get it cause it’s you but you looked like shit i’m being deadass

you were so skinny and green and it was so fucked up and i just wanted to cry the whole time

you don’t get it i know you don’t care but that was fucked and i still dont understand

i can’t understand and it just fills me with hate for them

all i know or think i do is

they did that shit to you

i wish i knew you before you lost your fuckin marbles

before they stole your fuckin marbles

i know it’s still you just missing several marbles

but it makes me really fuckin sad cause you’re nice

i hated people harassing me to eat i thought you were sabotaging me

i hated the body shaming i thought everyone was lying to sabotage me

maybe it was cause yours sounded less like an accusation

you of all pieces of shit made me eat and i couldn’t make you eat

i know it’s different i know it’s just convergent evolution

still i can’t stomach it

the thing in my head is always

I COULDVE TAKEN CARE OF YOU

then i could’ve been your right hand

isn’t that fuckin dumb as fuck

bold ass assumption for me of all pieces of shit to make

still i could’ve i would’ve

easy for me to say now

is that how lenins and hitlers are born

whatever it is you got me i’ll die for your cause except i won’t cause i’m scared to

sometimes i feel like it wouldn’t feel right to now

never called myself uyghur but an extension of you

not the village not the elders and children just you

really you and husya were the only things holding my heart there

husya is not okay i repeat the husya is not okay

i hoped you might save him as dumbfuck as that sounds

i thought he’s a terrorist and you’re a terrorist so obviously you’re like friends with his boss

hoped too hard you might be friends with his boss

didn’t think to know you’re not iran backed

he used to be normal i did his online russian course in grade nine

in grade ten i saw him for two days and we drank hennessy on the bus

he didn’t talk about it

not a god fuckin damn idea where he is now

like we don’t even know what fuckin country he’s in

would you happen to know

can you see him from all the way up there

is he blowing up malls is he freeing slaves

does he eat well is it hard to get weed wherever he is

you men and your abandoning

if you’re not in cold storage and you care to divinely intervene

and if you feel bad for my grieving you if you might make it up to me

can you watch over him o holy muslim jesus

make him gtfo while he can

[chappelroan]

agree with u 100%. related sort of: lana del rey has lost SO much weight and it makes me sad thinking that she was probably really affected by the constant body shaming online.

omg i was so confused what this was in relation to but ohhh my post abt thin women making art about body image lmao. i don't think lana's even lost that much weight from when she was getting the most vitriol over it. i hate to even like engage in conversation about her body because it feels weird and icky to me. but jesus christ yeah the way people talk about lana and her body and how it's alwayssss the fucking twinks and coquette girls that are like I just miss the Old Lana music its nothing about her appearance like i'm going to kill you i'm smiting you. oh my god i just rolled a nat 20 i am dealing you 10000 points of damage

anyway stream black bathing suit

edit: also only engaging w this ask because you were very normal about this. for some reason i have specifically gotten very weird asks about lana and her body on my old blog that i did not touch w a 10 feet pole lol

#ask

[kdipshit]

Well I Got The Thing I Needed, I Guess…

I have to learn to do everything my own way, as doing something with someone else’s perspective is just not possible. I have to be difficult all the time huh…

My body stays the same even tho it feels like my brain switches. Perspectives change. Beliefs. Realisations. Like the person I was 1 hour ago was dark and gloomy and quick to anger. irritated. But BPD irritation. I wanted to turn into a tornado and rip thru my entire house taking everyone up in it. Lol. Jk. But fr… and the person I am now is nothing like that. I don’t even think that way at all, why would I even want to it sounds like a war zone over there. Lets remember the parts of ourselves that occupy the body when the body is feeling so dark. She’s still us. Thats still me. Lol how do I say that? Im still me. Thats better. Im so sick of these walls in my brain keeping me from the other sides of myself, I can’t stay in the dark space for very long without scratching my way out. And its painful. Am I supposed to stay in that feeling until it passes? Coz sometimes it feels like it doesn’t fucking end, so I grab my bong and then I’m better. But weed is limited. Sometimes I think ill be better if I was just on the right meds. Im still very upset about my psych trip. And it makes me feel so discouraged to even continue trying…. But. I will keep trying. As long as I have weed to lean on, I’m straight as. But I’m not ignoring the darkness by trying to feel better. I can look at it in another perspective. I gotta do better. I gotta do better. The bruised knuckles do give me character tho. I should message A more quickly next time, she really did an amazing job at switching my perspective, its like she knows exactly how to talk to me. Im so grateful.

+ the weed makes me write better. Its easier to write down the thoughts… I found myself sounding like my hippie ass aunty telling my little sister that thoughts become things lol. Its such a shame that I’m actually crazy because no one really believes me lol. thoughts do become things tho, she was right, I just didn’t see the bigger picture, and I guess no one ever really will until they can for themselves. THANK YOU FOR PAIN. You give your shadow self love by learning how to thank the pain, and the hard journey, and the sleepless nights and teary eyes. Learning better methods, keeping yourself out of thought loops by treating every single day as brand new. Realising no ones got a problem with me lol. Im not a problematic person.

anyways…. Whats been going on wed chyall? Lol imagine all that trauma dumping and then I sip my tea. Your turn aunty. I’m always trine rush finish something because the act of doing something for too long freaks me out. Thats gotta be that ADHD hoe, which will be fixed if I fkn get my right meds bro wtf!!! D: like so much of my problems would be fixed if I just had the fun goddamn meds Jesus FUCK. Is it that hard around here? They think imma pill popper bro won’t even give me valium anymore, dogs. No fkn wonder why I’m smoking like smokey mother fucker, my shits al the way fucked up my boy. Give me the fucking pills lmaoooo. And up them anti-psychotics while your at it lmaoooo.

Does anyone else have conversations with other people in your head? Thats a normal thing right? Well the convos in my head are too quick to for me to write down, but they be having me fucked up on some different shit. I just did it, I just stopped a bad thought for manifesting bigger and replaced it with a better one AS SOON as it appeared. Sometimes I’m not quick enough and it catches me instead. I sat with myself today, I don’t even remember what I wrote in the ideation one. But I remember what mindset I was in, I’m curious to see how honest with myself I was. I can be honest with myself right now and day I don’t think I did good enough. There were times where I was thinking I really don’t wanna do this anymore. I forgot what I needed to remember, which was to redirect all go those feelings into positive ones, I know these things, but at some point, every emotion on peak feels the same, so I was historically crying on the way home, recklessly, because I forgot to remind myself, to switch the thought, look at everything else thats good, and setback or something super annoying happening is because your energy is needed elsewhere!! Butterfly effect, nothing in the end is bad. Its just a redirection, stop being so controlling, and let it be, let it flow, while you only control yourself, your reactions and your thoughts. Thoughts determine emotions, and emotions are my kryptonite.

The problem is my thought patter, and how it recycles the same 10-30 sentences over and over again. Some fkn crazy delulu, some that genuinely make sense cuz, and then the same normal other shit, right???? lol. Idk what I’m saying anymore but sometimes I ramble write (all the time) and I read it back and its dope as fuck and I actually make sense.

My poor knuckles are busted all because I knocked and no one answered. Well nah fuck, it was that, and then it was the non answered door last week too, its the non answered phone calls its the non answered emails like broooo. Should not be this hard to see a psychiatrist in my city I swear to god. Without weed I’m completely self destructive, I need to build my strength on my other positive coping mechanisms because typing really hurts. And I love to write. Self destructive me is very overwhelmed and unsure how to untangle everything so everything comes out as a big fat cry.

#blogging #new blog #mental health #actually bipolar #actually borderline #mental instability #actually bpd #original post #original writing

[girloikawa]

so i was on twitter, doing my twitter things, when i saw this article

the only reason i clicked on it was because of the words “looks like a model” being in the same sentence as “so thin now” and i needed to make sure they weren’t imply that there aren’t plus size models. well, to no surprise, the article was the shittiest, most fatphobic thing ever. so let’s take a look at that

the whole thing is a slide show of previously fat celebrities and their current state after losing weight. first one is kim kardashian and, guess what....they’re shaming her for something completely natural! she birthed life, you dipshits, have some respect.

aretha franklin. “and we mean REALLY big.” 1) there is nothing wrong with being fat, fat is not a dirty word. 2) do you know how fucking stupid it is to put this on the internet forever? being fatphobic in private or even saying fatphobic stuff is terrible, but you’re not really going to get in trouble for it. but, as a company, you could at least have some integrity, or pretend to. (note: they have 1.3k followers and get this...they’re a travel company?)

honestly, scrolling through them, i saw that they were harsher on the men. maybe they took it as not wanting to be disrespectful to women (idk how though) or they just think it’s more socially acceptable to shame men for their bodies than women, but let me tell you, it is not. i don’t like chris pratt as a person, but you will not imply that men are uglier for having some weight, no matter who it is. the disrespect

“disappointed many fans by gaining tons of weight” im sorry...disappointed who? oh you mean the people who value human worth based on how much stomach fat they have? don’t want em anyways! and the fact that they refer to gaining weight as a “mistake” is appalling. so she ate food, why does that matter? celebrities don’t have to be skinny to be celebrities, nobody has to be skinny to have value. why is this such an issue?

the list is implying that you need to be slim (and in some cases unhealthily slim) to look good, and that gaining weight is in any way bad. it is not. sometimes, gaining weight can be a healthy and beautiful thing. taylor swift talked about how she’s more confident in herself once she gained weight, for example. there is nothing wrong with not being skinny.

this one is confusing to me because she doesn’t even look like she weighs a lot. so. i guess you’re only aloud to weigh 130 pounds or less

this one’s just cruel. probably the worst one. making fun or people for eating, not like it’s one of the basic human needs, am i right? they just went striaght for fatphobia! thanks!

honey boo boo isn’t in the article. it was clickbate. honey boo boo is gorgeous by the way whether she is fat or not stupid article shut up. plus size models exist and are honestly dominating the game so

moral of the story: all bodies are beautiful, as long as you’re happy and healthy, nobody should give a shit. it’s your body. beauty standards are fucked and capitalized off of, so don’t listen to anybody who thinks being overweight is inherently a bad thing. you’re gorgeous, love, let them stay mad <3

#!!!! #tw: fatphobia #tw: fat shaming #THIS IS LIKE??? INSANE #why would you even post this shit #body shaming is so fucking normalized jesus #ok to rb #if u want #weight #weight gain #weight loss #stupid article #dumb people #body posititivity #body shaming #im positive the article isn’t #there were so many other terrible ones too btw #chris pratt