#but when my brain is extra loud its nice listening to him and having it quiet down

[finchsthoughts]

Something about Roland Faunte really soothes the brain

#i always love listening to him #but when my brain is extra loud its nice listening to him and having it quiet down #rn its End on a Hai (Live Session) #roland faunte #end on a hai

[mintmatcha]

cw: a weird vent piece lol, suicide mention, no quirks au, mentally ill reader

You always fuck with your shirt on. You'd wear more, if you could, but you haven't figured out how to do it with your pants on yet.

You pull the sheets over your sweat chilled legs and hope he didn't notice the spots you missed shaving. If he did, Natsuo doesn't seem to mind. His arm is tucked under your head, muscle fibers occasionally twitching underneath you and turning the soft mass dense.

Sometimes, Natsuo keeps his shirt on too. Neither of you have ever asked the other about it; there's a mutual understanding when a hand is stopped.

"Do you work tonight?" he asks.

You shake your head as his body relaxes deeper into the mattress.

"I'm gonna do laundry if you want to throw your stuff in," he mumbles, "I'll get you junk to sleep in."

The medical textbooks he was studying are still on the floor, flipped to random pages of different cycles and tissues, abandoned in exchange for you. If Natsuo fails his midterms, it'll be your fault. If he passes, he'll be leaving the city next semester for his hospital rotations.

Part of you wants him to fail. It's that dirty, evil part that no one else seems to have, the part you try to starve, but it keeps growing anyway. It nips at you whenever the room gets too quiet.

It's teeth are extra sharp today.

"You're so sweet." You speak into his skin, "I don't know how you're still single."

A sharp inhale is sucked through his teeth, cutting through his smile. Natsuo takes in all of your features and you know he's wondering why you're saying these things-- why you're purposefully bringing this up.

"Well, sweetie-" His tone is light, like he's avoiding stepping on glass, stepping on glass. With every word, he walks his fingers on your arm, spanning from elbow to shoulder, "I'm only single because you keep turning me down."

The overhead fan whizzes. The part you try to starve sinks its teeth into your chest.

"Natsuo, we've talked about this," you say, "I don't date."

You sit up and swing a leg over him, straddling his hips. A trail of white hair runs down his stomach and down under the sheets, disappearing where the two of you meet. He holds you by the hem of your tee, just tight enough to hold you in place.

"Would it be so bad?" he whispers.

"Here's what would happen, alright?" You brush your fingers through his sweat touched hair and it bounces right back into place the second you pull away. It makes you giggle a bit and he mirrors you, an unsure, foolish optimism in his eyes, "Let's just say I met this wonderful, beautiful boy and tricked-"

"Tricked?" he scoffs.

"Tricked him into loving me." You want to kiss him, but it feels cruel for both of you. Instead, you just cup his jaw in your hands and cradle him, letting the weight of him slump into your palms, "He'd treat me right and bring me home to meet his parents, 'cause he was raised right and, even though he's really smart, he'd think he's in love."

Fingers squeeze at your hips.

"But the second I left, his parents would tell him that he deserves someone prettier and smarter and, and, and better," you say, "And they'd be right."

“My mom’s nice," He drops your pretense with a whisper, ruining your not so careful charade. “She wouldn’t say that.”

He doesn’t mention his dad. There’s a silent sentence there. One that says, “But he might.” It’s hard to keep your brain from sticking to that point, from sticking your thumb into this metaphorical soft spot.

“I mean, she wouldn’t say it out loud, but she’d think it," you say, “She’d sit there and think ‘that girl's not good enough for my son' and she'd be right."

He scoff he lets out is uneasy, almost a songed laugh, more pained than annoyed. "My mom is nice."

This conversation is hurting him, but you can't stop yourself.

"And they'd tell you to break up with me, but you wouldn't listen to them, 'cause you're head strong like that. You'd probably date me in spite of them for while," you ramble, "But then you'd go away and you'd meet some pretty, normal girl and you'd realize they were right. They were always right. I was right."

The overhead fan whizzes.

"So, it's better if I just don't date at all,"

Natsuo's grip dissolves and you think you see it then - the moment whatever is between you dies. A hollowness passes over his features, empty eyes and sucked cheeks, as he ducks his head down to rest his face against your chest. Chin against the soft of your tits, he seems farther away than ever.

You could gloat. You could cry. You're a self-fulfilling prophecy once again.

Natsuo sighs and his words slip so easily from him that you almost don't process what he's saying. "You're so sad. I wish you'd get help."

That catches you off guard. The control over this conversation is ripped away, your curtain drops, and you suddenly feel very, horribly seen.

"What?" You try to laugh it off, leaning back to escape the way he watches you.

"Sometimes I wake up and you're not here," he says, "And I worry that's the last time I'll ever see you."

You understand the implication.

"I'm not gonna kill myself." It might be the truth, you think.

"Yeah," His arms wrap around your waist again, snaking the air from your lungs, "Touya promised me that too."

Touya is only ever mentioned over too many beers and tears you're not allowed to remember the next morning. He was only 16, only a couple years older than Natsuo, but the ghosts still linger to this day, always tucked into the back of the room, stalking, haunting.

Natsuo comes from money and fame. His apartment is paid for by his father. He's never had to work to afford food. At first, you resented him for that; you wanted that ease and safety his family afforded him.

But everything comes at a cost. Every unhappy family is unhappy in there own ways.

"I'm sorry that you keep loving things that break." That is the truth. You're just the end of a line of his mistakes, starting all the way at mom and dad and trailing through every girlfriend ever since.

"I do love you. And it's not despite the fact you're 'broken'," Natsuo takes your hand with a resounding firmness. It reminds you of that thing they say about golden retrievers; the smart ones can hold an egg in their jaws without shattering the shell. Natsuo holds you like he understands you in some deep, intrinsic way, "Or because of it or whatever."

He doesn't look away, those bright, wide eyes bluer than ever.

"I just like all your little pieces." He kisses your knuckles one by one, trailing from thumb to pinkie to thumb again.

The room is silent. The bad part of you is no longer begging to eat. Maybe it's full for now, but you know it's just out of focus, stalking in the dark, biding its time.

"You should study." You slip from him and reclaim your own space in the bed. After a long, simple pause, Natsuo gets up himself, collecting his boxers from the floor.

"Yeah," he says, "You're right."

The hurt you've caused is no longer comfortable to live in. Your mouth is dry, thirsty for a change you're not sure how to make. Recovery feels like a big leap-- loving and being loved feels every farther away.

All you can do is shuffle your feet against the sheets and take the tiniest step towards normalcy.

"Do you want to get brunch tomorrow before your classes?" you offer your olive branch, your silent promise, "I'll pay."

He weighs this, measuring it for sincerity, then smiles just wide enough your get a glimpse of teeth.

"Let me get you something to sleep in."

For now, it's enough.

[lounaticm]

Married!Captain x Dark HCs

(I haven't been able to stop thinking about this ask from @psychnerd713 and only after I gave an answer did my brain decide to properly start thinking about it, so. Here's a continuation.)

The wedding is a quiet affair, just the two of them. Much as the Captain loves their crew to death, they didn't want anything loud or to have too much attention. This was for them and him. Thankfully, the Captain has both the knowledge and license/authority to officiate their own wedding, the very first to take place on their new planet.

The Captain says nothing about having gotten married afterwards, though it doesn't take too long for someone to catch them with their gloves off, the ring standing out starkly. The discoverer stating their surprise and lack of knowledge about the Captain being married draws a lot of attention, eventually bringing Celci around to mention that the Captain's records upon boarding the Invincible stated that they weren't married.

"It happened recently. Didn't want a lot of attention or to cause a commotion."

Questions about 'who' and 'where' and 'when' and 'why they hadn't said anything before' immediately began to flood in.

"No one that any of you would know. Not too far from the settlement. Almost a month ago, now. Because it's a rather complicated situation."

Cue Dark suddenly appearing through what looks like a hole in the universe.

"I would say you certainly seem to have some timing... except I know you're always watching or listening."

"I worry."

"I know. You're a professional worrier at this point. And due to the sorts of things that have happened, I don't mind a bit. It's nice to have an extra pair of eyes on things."

The crew, of course, feels rather hurt that they weren't at the very least told about the Captain getting married before now, but ultimately understand - at least, as much as they're able to without all the details of what led up to it all, but that's an entire lifetime and then some, and it would simply take much too long to try to explain it all just then.

Dark wears a glamor for the first while, hiding his inhuman skin tone and the unnatural (and sometimes uncomfortable) aura that usually surrounds him. The first time he lets any of it down is actually accidental, an ever-so-slight slip of his concentration as he's walking around the settlement, speaking and reminiscing with the Captain. All it takes is for the Captain to make him laugh, a burst of cyan sparkling off of him like flecks of aquamarine catching the sunlight, a small ripple of red following in its wake.

He starts consciously allowing parts of his aura to show through after that. The red and cyan anaglyphic effects. The grey pallor to his skin. An occasional feeling of slightly increased air pressure around him. It's assumed that that's all there is to him... until he's seen getting irritated at a certain wannabe usurper in the crew. Grey creeps off his skin like smoke, eventually coalescing into a sphere around him, the color of everything in this area being sapped away until it is removed from this proximity. That slight pressure becomes a heavy weight, pressing down like the gravity had suddenly shifted to be double or triple of what it should be. And then there's the high-pitched ringing, like a gun had gone off much too close by, and the creaking, as if something wooden were under a strain. No one could deny that the Captain's husband made for quite the intimidating sight when he wanted to be, and he hadn't even raised his voice.

He'd introduced himself to everyone by the name Dark, and though people always hear the Captain calling him Damien (and diminutives thereof) no one calls him anything else.

Dark sometimes disappears for a few hours, but no one knows where he goes and they've no intentions of asking and potentially butting into personal business. Some have heard the Captain asking him how 'the Others' are doing when he comes back again - always through those abyss-like doorways that close too fast to see anything but a pitch black void. Eavesdroppers often hear talk of someone called 'Will' getting up to all sorts of things. Regardless of what names are mentioned, there is always clear fondness in his tone, if sometimes colored with exasperation.

Knowing me, my brain probably won't let this go even still, so if I end up with more thoughts, there will be a sequel to this.

@kiwibubbles5

#lou's writing #voices from the abyss #markiplier #markiplier egos #darkiplier #iswm captain #in space with markiplier #iswm #beloved void man 🖤 #mirror revenant 🪞

[corrodedcoughin]

Okay I'm back and this time its not with a song but another au. Listen, Ballet dancer Steve, I literally cannot stop thinking about it. Like, his father made him do sports like a real man, following in his footsteps etc (hence the basketball and swimming). But his mother insists he do ballet from a young age (maybe she always wanted a daughter?) And this is something she is not backing down on - as much as his dad hates it. And Steve is loathe to admit it to anyone - especially his parents - but he actually really enjoys it?

He goes to all the lessons, takes extra classes, not telling anyone and working it around his sports that he's got that season. Clears out his living room and practices at home, folds his laundry while casually stretching and doing the splits.

The first people to know are Dustin and Robin, and it's nice having someone know and not insult him the way he knows Tommy and Carol would have. Spitting slurs and calling him a pussy. Hes super self conscious about this thing he loves, but isn't goin to admit that either. Eventually Dustin doesn't bat an eye when he tells him he can't hang out that day, he's got ballet. Just complains like a normal teen that they haven't hung out in ages, God Steve. Robin will occasionally ask him to try and teach her ballet positions at their sleepovers. She doesn't tease him for this, and he doesn't tease her when she stumbles or trips over her own feet.

And then he meets Eddie, and he befriends Eddie, and he's crushing on Eddie. And I absolutely want Eddie to be someone who walks in on him and finds out, rather than being told. Mostly because Eddie would have a heart attack seeing Steve in his ballet tights, muscles on show, strong and graceful as fuck.

I’m banging my knife and fork on the table MORE PLEASE MORE!!!!

I’m getting billy Elliot vibes??? A little???? Maybe in a different life (or this one, who knows with him) Murray is a ballet teacher and is the one that taught Steve, cue comedic relief ‘you’ve got to be the swan Steve. No not like that, Swans don’t look like they are constipated and experiencing violent diarrhoea at same time steve come ON! From the top!’

How about Eddie catches him when he’s cooling down one day. Steve is in his living room with his headphones on, listen to billy Joel and just trying to relax his muscles out while zoning out to his music. Eddie just walks into the house because of course he does and Steve’s music is so loud he doesn’t hear a thing so when he opens his eyes he makes eye contact with Eddie who’s been standing in the doorway for god knows how long. Both of them speechless, both of them flushed but maybe for different reasons. Cue Dustin barrelling in after Eddie, ‘hey Steve, eddie drove me over, I knew you’d be busy. I’ve got this lasagna from mom, she said make sure you freeze some. Hey do you think you could kick somebody in the head? I’m just saying, I think it would be a good idea to try, self defence yknow?’

Neither Steve nor Eddie has said a word or moved. Both too scared to incase the other bolts. Dustin prompts them ‘don’t you think so eddie?’

‘What Henderson? What did you say?’

‘That Steve should practice kicking people in the head! Would be great for surprise attacks’

Eddie is on the verge of brain static again before saying louder than he meant to ‘can I be the target?’ They make eye contact and steve gives Eddie the most tentative smile, suddenly bashful but something must switch in his brain because then he’s looking directly at Eddie and fucking winks

#BALLET STEVE I LOVE YOUR MIND #these are for you 💐💐💐💐💐 if you don’t want them take this instead 🏆 #I hope that if you ever develop your plan that you post it because I’ll reblog it ten thousand times #sorry I didn’t know what I was doing with my rambling #idk if it’s what you were planning so just ignore it if you want!!! #I LOVE!!!! this idea!!! #steve in gym tights 😩 #he’d be like the gymnasts at the olympics in their zip up jackets #also yes Murray wears a tutu and leg warmers #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington

[rhaenall]

do you have kenstewy hcs?

I DOOO. i have so many.

actually in my one kenstewy fic the flashbacks of kenstewy during their early years i included are canon events to me HDKKD

so: kendall read out loud for stewy, kendall slept over at stewy’s home without telling anyone, kendall punched a guy once for stewy, and kendall definitely liked the fact that his dad likes stewy more than that awful green feeling. they definitely had a really rough patch when kendall was starting recovery.

some other hcs that sit in my brain:

i think both stewy and kendall are functional addicts but kendall has too many destructive mental illnesses and behavior that send him spiraling and to over do it

stewy used to drag kendall to his family weddings since buckley, its like their own tradition whenever there is a wedding stewy already texting kendall and kendall is like “guys 🙄🙄 i have to go this wedding��� roman: “do u even know the people” “no but i just cant not go” also they were definitely kicked out weddings before

stewy’s parents looove kendall but sometimes they are haters ❤️ just like stewy and stewy always tells them aaall the gossip and they are not afraid to scold kendall as if he was their own child

kendall always gets so overwhelmed going over to stewy's family, they are soo nice?? kendall would feel sad if he had disappointed them more than he would if he disappointed stewy hELP

ken stewy moving in together would be so random like kendall has been spending most of his time at stewy's place and stewy went "are u still paying for you apartment?" kendall saying "yeah" stewy: "okay stop you're just wasting money bro" and kendall agreeing to it

stewy in canon is an double texter but sometimes kendall when he is extra unhinged would also just spam stewy with text messages and audio message. its a sign for stewy that kendall is shooting for the stars the 1004th time. if stewy is in the mood he will listen to them but only reply with a thumbs up or down (mostly down) or a "duuuude" and the phone number of a therapist

during these episodes, mature and full of sense and logic stewy would try to avoid kendall, but if he can't for whatever reasons they end up fucking...well kendall ends up fucking stewy hard wherever they are. getting his brains fucked by an unhinged kendall are never stewy's proudest moments but unhinged (loser) dick is really good???

thank you for the question anon <333

#kenstewy #stewy hosseini #kendall roy

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Four (Part 2)

The next day I’m late for life drawing class as usual, and everyone is already laying their sketchbooks out on the floor as I burst into the studio, already halfway out of my raincoat and gloves. Ida doesn’t say anything, she just glances around at me, pauses, and then keeps talking to the rest of the class, which is obviously a thousand times worse than a scolding. I hastily unzip my bag and wrench my sketchbook out of it, only slightly wet around the edges from the torrential rain soaking through the flimsy canvas of my bag. I race over to lay it on the floor amongst the others. 

Marnie shoves a sharp elbow into my ribs as I take my place beside her, and I glance at the side of her face to see her smirking. Yes. I want to hiss. I know I keep doing this, apparently I’m just completely unable to get my life together and be a functioning person, Okay?

“Like I was saying,” Says Ida, as it dawns on me that I have interrupted her, and instantly wish I was dead. “I wanted to see improvements from all of you in the anatomy of your figures last week, so I’m very interested to see what you’ve done for today.” She bends down and begins to slowly flip through the pages of one sketchbook. “What do we think about this work?” 

“Nice sense of movement.” Says one student. 

“Yeah, the sketches of the man with the glasses are very nice.” Says another, while I desperately rack my brains for something to say. What do I think? Do I have a single opinion in my head about anything? 

Ida moves from one sketchbook to the next, and everyone discusses their work. I watch who’s speaking, and slowly, one by one, everybody eventually speaks up. Except for me. I have nothing to say. I am blank. I bring my thumbnail to my mouth and chew on it anxiously, feeling tension and shame growing inside me like a lump in my gut. 

She reaches for a sketchbook full of dark, confident lines, and I know immediately who it belongs to. I watch as she flips through the pages, all moody sketches of silhouettes in windows, backlit by street lamps, a whole page filled with a scratchy portrait of a man in a jacket, hard lines and planes on his face. 

“They’re good.” I force myself to say, at last. My voice seems to echo extra loudly in the studio and I have never been more aware of myself but I push through the fear. “But I think they’re messy. The anatomy is lost among all the smudges. I wish they were done much neater.” I glance up to meet Dean Cullen’s eyes, and quirk my eyebrow at him. How do you like it? I want to tell him. Doesn’t feel that good, does it? 

Ida says my opinion is fair, and we spend some time discussing it, but I’m not really listening. I’m focussed on the way my body feels, the way the blood is coursing through me, the slight weakness in my legs from the adrenaline of speaking out for the first time in front of the class and taking Dean’s work down all in one fell-swoop. 

I never prepared for what would happen when we got to my sketchbook however, and as soon as Ida starts leafing through its soggy pages I find myself stricken with anxiety. I keep my eyes on Dean the whole time as the class discusses my work, waiting for him to come up with something, watching the gears in his head turn, formulating whatever unhelpful, unconstructive comment he’s about to spew. 

He finally opens his annoying little mouth. “Nice, as usual, but needs more refinement in the hands. Would have liked to have seen more detail.”

Doesn’t he know how hard hands are? I make a scoffing sound, out loud, and then immediately burn up with embarrassment as a few faces turn to stare at me. Dean is looking too, a questioning look on his face as though he doesn’t quite get my indignation. If Ida hears, however, she ignores it and starts telling me about how to draw hands in a more considered way, which I only half listen to, because I can’t keep my eyes from flitting back and forth between the sketchbook and Dean. I loathe him. I decide. He must be the most irritating man alive. 

During the afternoon in the computer lab I listen intently to our lecturer guiding us through the steps of creating an image from scratch in Photoshop, when I hear the sound of computer chair wheels glide towards me across the floor. I assume it’s Marnie, coming to start some conversation that’s not even loosely connected to the classwork, so I prepare to shrug her off immediately. All these menus have me confused enough, I don’t need to add some post she read on Tumblr to my mental load. 

“Can it wait until after?” I whisper tightly with eyes glued to the screen. Where the hell is the Modify menu? 

“Eh, not really.” Comes the response, and I’m immediately thrown by the male voice. My hand practically spasms off the mouse and I whirl around to face Dean, altogether too much into my personal space, slumped back in his chair and idly spinning himself from side to side. 

“Oh.” I say, then pause, unsure what to say. “Did you want something?”

“I’m lost.” He admits. “I’m not that great with, like, the tech stuff. I saw that you kind of looked like you knew what you were doing so I was hoping I could take the computer beside you and look in on your screen.”

“Well I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

“It seems like you know more than I do.” He wheels into the empty desk beside me and boots up the computer. I stare at him the whole time in bewilderment. Doesn’t he realise that we hate each other? Or is he just messing with me? 

I turn back to my screen and try to ignore him, but the lecturer is already talking about something else. Now I have to find the expand button. God damn it, where’s the expand button? What the hell does that do? The way that Dean clicks and clacks on his keyboard is about ten times louder than the way any normal person does it. And he sniffs really loudly. And his giant stretched out jumper smells like cigarettes and the inside of a charity shop. 

He leans over to me. “Where’s modify?”

“I don’t know.” I hiss. “I was trying to find it when you interrupted me.” 

He goes back to clicking for a few minutes, and when he nudges me gently with his elbow, I’m forced to look at him. He looks like a TV villain. No good hearted men have faces like that, or hair bleached that horrendous shade of Slim Shady blonde. He looks like he should be riding around town with his car windows down and his middle fingers up. “It’s in the select menu.” He advises. “You go Select > Modify > Expand.” 

“Thanks” I say, begrudgingly following his directions, which are tragically correct, and go back to following the lecturers demonstration, but it isn’t long before Dean starts talking again. 

“I like your drawing.” He whispers, nodding towards my digital line work of a girl floating in space with Saturn for a head, and his compliment makes my heckles rise. “Oh, do you actually?” I whisper back accusingly, which seems to take him aback. 

“Eh… Yes?” 

“Hm. Alright.”

“Why? Do you think it’s shit or something?”

“No, I’m just surprised you don’t have anything smart to say about it.” 

“I can say it’s shit if you want.”

“You might as well, sure you always say that about my other work.”

There is a long pause, where I can see from the corner of my eye that he’s turned to stare at me, but can’t bear to meet his gaze. I go on clicking around through all the menus so that I can look unbothered, and it seems like an age before he decides to speak again. “I think you must be talking about the life drawing critique sessions.” He leaves that statement hanging in the air as if he expects me to respond to it, but I just ignore him and drag my mouse through the colour wheel, trying to decide what shade of navy blue I should make the sky. I shouldn’t have to say anything. It’s obvious. 

He sighs. “You know it’s just critique, it’s not as if it’s a personal attack on you.”

“It’s more than a critique.” I bite back. “It’s rude. The way you talk about my work is rude, that’s just what I think and how it comes across to me.”

“Would you prefer if I said it was perfect?”

I turn to him to launch into a response, but the lecturer beats me to it. “Dean and Evelyn at the back there, please, if you want to continue your conversation can you please do it outside the classroom?” 

I snap my mouth shut and spin back around to my monitor. If I still had long hair, I would have flipped it over my shoulder right about now. He can rot. 

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims storytelling #sims4 storytelling #lucky girl part 2

[cosettepontmercys]

Hi! Ya I was curious about the extra bonus track..but some people said it might just be a remix so I wasn't too sure about it. I like the color though and how it also matches one of her 1989 outfits on tour like people were saying. But I kinda wonder why she is doing so much for 1989..similar to Midnights with the extra bonus track and different covers..but I think she just wants it to be really successful over the original version. I may buy one for the car eventually but it also won't have the bonus song so idk. I loved her VMAS look and after-party look..and how she wore a dress similar to Sabrina's and hung out with Selena! I love that they're still close.

Ooh that concert should be fun and I'm happy you got tickets! Hopefully she works on stage presence too. The whole album has grown on me more..especially Get him back, but i have the same favorites. Ooh yes I am hoping to listen to Laufey, Mitski and Madison Beer soon. They all kinda have a slow style and almost old fashioned sound which I like. I would say it was true for Billie's other album as well if you listen to it. But Olivia's was actually more rockish lol...so I really just like it all.

I never saw Ride the Cyclone but have heard good things about it. I guess I'm not as familiar with some off Broadway stuff for the most part but that's cool. I hope we can both like Broadway again soon. But I see you watched the Little Mermaid movie and so did I! It's nice thinking we both did the same thing near each other like with the Eras tour..and hopefully with seeing the tour movie too. Anyway I thought it was mostly fine..but also good. But I mostly enjoy all the remakes..cuz I already know what I'm getting so I can't be too disappointed. But anyway..ya new songs sometimes always feel unnecessary anyway. I knew it was Lin beforehand but also you can always kinda hear Lin's style too so it's interesting you didn't know. But it was more obvious in Encanto than here. I'm still a fan of his though! But I will watch any musical movie and at least somewhat enjoy it lol. I am also using it as an opportunity to watch the Cinderella with Brandy and Bernadette Peters finally..and hoping to watch the new Theater Camp movie that's now on Hulu. I'm also looking forward to seeing her in the Color Purple movie when it comes out, since I thought she was a pretty good Ariel. What were your thoughts? I get the idea that ya it doesn't really need to be remade cuz we have stage versions too so sometimes it's just kinda okay..I think they're all pretty equal to me.

I'm glad you're feeling better! I wasn't feeling as well either which is why I didn't reply right away. But I've also more offline and trying to read more too. I will hopefully be done with Some Mistakes Were Made by the end of this week..maybe. since I am now trying to read more books in the readathon and focus on that. I will probably put The Night Circus in cozy fantasy then, and finishing up picking for the other categories. I don't really listen to audiobooks cuz I get too distracted or can't focus on it. It would have to be a good one too..a lot of the ones I'm familiar with is just like reading out loud so I don't usually listen to them..but i could see how it might make you enjoy the book more if the audio was good. I'm glad you are reading more books you enjoy and getting more done for the readathon. I will definitely look into any book you love or recommend! Have a good week!

hi hello!! i'm definitely curious to see what she ends up doing in terms of remixes for 1989 tv! and i've seen some theories about her alternating between not a lot of promo and then a lot of promo, which is cool — and would make sense with rep being an album with not a lot of promo which means (in my delusional brain) that debut would have a lotttt of promo !! i do not think that's true, but i would love it if debut finally got paid its dues. unfortunately, the different covers is just the norm now; i think sour & guts both had ~ 15/16 variants, most artists have at least 3 but a lot of them usually have more, it's just a marketing/sales thing, unfortunately. and yes!! i think it's so cute how close they are <3

i listened to the new laufey last week but haven't had time to relisten and so i do not have favorites for you yet! i've actually never listened to madison beer, but tiktok keeps pushing her on me so i might give her album a go soon! and the new mitski — i am just very behind on music lately (been listening to audiobooks instead) but i am very excited to give the new mitski a go! one of my best friends got to go to an early listening party in a planetarium for the new mitski, and that experience sounded SO cool. guts has definitely grown on me a lot more; i think i like it more than sour, but that might be recency bias.

i saw ride the cyclone twice in seattle, and it is just such a weird little musical that i love with my entire heart! i love odd little shows that just make me think, and ride the cyclone definitely is one of those shows. i'm seeing the national tour of hadestown in a few weeks which i'm super excited for; i've seen it on broadway twice, but missed the tour last year when they were in seattle (got into seattle and then found out they cancelled my performance twenty minutes before doors opened). and i just got tickets to go see a regional performance of the band's visit when i'm in boston this fall, so i'm super stoked! i hope you're also able to love broadway again soon 🤍

and yes!! i love that! 🥺 i think i was a little disappointed by the remake? i don't usually like remakes though (aside from live action cinderella). i really loved halle bailey as ariel, but was a bit let down by jonah h-k as eric (and sent my friend caitlyn several voice memos about how his eric reminds me of how he plays laurie in PBS little women) vocally but also just wasn't the biggest fan of his characterization/interpretation! i think the remake also just didn't do a whole lot for me, which is fine! the pacing felt very drawn out, i wish the costumes were a bit brighter in color, and i think some of the casting was interesting, but i really loved daveed diggs as sebastian! i haven't actually wanted encanto but i keep meaning to!

i'm SO excited for theatre camp! i think i'm watching it on friday with a friend; i love molly gordon, and will watch anything for her haha. the color purple remake looks so good, i saw a trailer of it when i watched barbie and it looks amazing!! in general though, i really have mixed feelings because i don't think everything needs to be a remake — i think some things work better as proshots vs. remakes, and sometimes i just get sad because there are perfectly good actors who can sing well that we can cast in musicals and a lot of remakes/movie musicals don't do that (this isn't about any cast/movie in particular, just an overarching generalization).

i hope you're feeling better!! i feel like everyone is getting sick/ill lately :( take care of yourself, friend! i haven't really been doing the readathon as much as i want to either — jamie and i were briefly talking about doing an october / nov / dec one instead (i have some prompt ideas, might just post them to encourage the besties to read more if people are interested)! do you have anything fun planned for this weekend? what are you currently reading/watching/listening? 🤍

#post: answered #🩷 anon

[catholicdaredevil]

the devil of hell's shower || matt murdock

this is just matt being overly dramatic and worrying too much but also being disgustingly in love with you it's just a tiny little ficlet that's been bouncing around my head like a dvd loading screen it's a gn reader

warnings: just disgusting tooth rotting sweet fluff, nakedness, shower, loving intimacy, relationship milestones

words: 1.8k ish

ao3 link

gif credit: @acme-m7

The gentle sounds of the shower running in his bathroom was a nice relaxing background noise, like rain on the roof, calmed him down from the stress of the day as he cleaned up after dinner. He could smell your shampoo in the steam, it had found its home in his shower quickly after you started staying the night. You would use his body wash, conditioner, toothpaste but no shampoo was where you drew the line. He had the vague recollection that you’d tried to explain it to him sometime but he had zoned out just listening to your heart and feeling the gentle heat of you across the couch from him.

Matt loved having you in his apartment; loved the pieces of you that you left there even when you weren’t. First it had been the shampoo, shirts here and there, even your favorite coffee creamer just showing up in his fridge one day. A sense of domesticity he had frequently thought was beyond his reach you just dropped at his doorstep day by day, like a cat bringing its owner mice. A gift. One he happily gathered up and hoarded in his chest just below his heart, keeping you with him at all times, and returned the favor tenfold. Things you had offhandedly mentioned scattered around his apartment next, like a huge neon open sign that this could be your apartment too. Things like extra pillows on your side of his bed, an extra toothbrush in case you ever forgot yours, every single snack he ever saw you ate would simply appear in his kitchen.

His peace as he reminisced about the little nest you two had created together, a home, was quickly shattered by the loud thud of you falling in the shower. Matt dropped the rag he’d been still holding after drying the dishes and surged across the apartment as panic sparked every nerve in his body alive. The door almost fell off its hinges with the force he put into wrenching it open and he was met with the sound of you groaning as you sat up. Matt fell to his knees in front of you with a thud that would have hurt if he had any part of his brain available to register it.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” His hands fluttered from your head across the planes of your face and down to your shoulders, arms as he checked for anything; any mark or break. Anything to explain why you were suddenly on the floor of his shower and when he found nothing he worried even more at what he could possibly be missing.

“‘m fine. Fuck, just- I just slipped y’know.” Your soft hands reached out to grab his and held them against you so he could feel your steady heartbeat, knowing it was what he needed. Matt’s heart reacted the same as it always did immediately slowing down to match yours, it happened unconsciously like his body wanted to meld with yours.

“You slipped,” the words came slow to him like it was a puzzle he was setting out piece by piece to see how they connected. His palm flattened on your chest and he felt every breath you took. The calm in you slowly seeping into him, his mind still racing at the idea of a threat already on its descent into quiet. Your wet fingers dragging through his hair as he sighed finally letting himself relax into you.

“Yeah Matty, I slipped. I got the shower a little too hot and I didn’t realize how dizzy I was until it was too late, that’s all, sorry I scared you.” He took his time digesting your words, one hand traveling up to brush your hair off your face, his touch gentle, reverent as always. Your heartbeat was consistent, truth; and he couldn’t smell anything off about you, nothing sick. “You’re smelling me right now aren’t you, freak?”

Your teasing words melted the final bits of tension in the air and they swirled down the drain with the water. His position on his knees while he charted your face under his hands just this side of prayer.

“You still have shampoo in your hair, you just fell in the shower and are sitting like a baby deer. Your leg is gonna bruise from where it hit the side of the tub but I’m the freak?”

The lack of a fight had him back to himself, that coy smirk now plastered across his lips- lips that he pressed against yours, leaning under the water just to kiss you. Nails scraped down the back of his head to his neck and he groaned against your mouth continuing to push into the shower not caring about the way his shirt plastered to his skin under the water. It didn’t matter he knew he was going to end up in the shower with you anyways so why should he care if his clothes got ruined.

You finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours as you caught your breath. “It’s a good thing you’re gonna help me get the rest of this shampoo out of my hair since I’m so seriously injured.”

“Oh, am I now?”

“Yeah, you are.”

Now it was your turn to initiate the kiss, your hands unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders with the ease of someone who had done it enough times it was like muscle memory. Once it hit the floor in a damp pile he broke the kiss and wrapped a strong arm around your chest just under your arms and like you weighed almost nothing, pulled you both to stand. He waited several moments still hesitant that you would fall again before removing the last of his clothing so he could step in behind you.

It didn’t take long for him to find his favorite place as he pressed himself up against your back, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck where he placed the smallest kisses imaginable. You stood like that for longer than either of you would admit, until the water went from the melting hot you liked to a much more reasonable warm. Not that you needed it, Matt always seemed to run a million degrees like your own personal space heater. That line of heat pressed against you was a feeling that always made your brain go a little fuzzy. Matt hummed gently before spinning you to face him so that your hair was under the shower, his hands gently massaging your scalp and clearing out the last of the suds left behind.

You reached for his shampoo as he grabbed the conditioner and the two of you went about a routine you had long since established. He always took his time making sure to touch every single inch of you, not just in the shower this was just his best excuse for it. While he took the entire thing so seriously, like it was a form of worship just to help you shower. You however did not, making his hair into a mohawk with the shampoo and giggling at how it turned out.

“Enjoying yourself,” the deep rumble wasn’t a question and his mouth twitched with the effort it took not to smile at your fervent nod. The mohawk was the first of many terrible hairstyles each worse than the last and eventually he gave up on mapping your body in the shower and simply leaned against the wall content to let you do as you pleased as long as you were both happy and more importantly touching.

“Wait! I got it, this is gonna be the best one, you ready?” You took the sarcastic raise of his eyebrow, not sure how he could survey sarcasm so well in just a single eyebrow raise but had learned long ago not to underestimate him, as assent. Your hands worked at his hair with such concentration, nails scratching along his scalp as a thank you for all his patience as you went.

Until two little soapy devil horns stood up on the top of his head.

This time he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. No matter how angsty of a man Matt Murdock could be, how angry at the world or himself or God. You were somehow always able to carve these little moments out of the worst of days, out of the worst of himself. Always able to shine light into even the darkest corners of himself, dusting out the cobwebs with care and love.

His arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him to press his laughter and love into you, pouring everything he feels about you down your throat. Trailing a burning line of open kisses down your throat between growled words of love.

“I love you so goddamn much,” your head tipped back with a breathless laugh, giving him better access to the skin of your neck. Matt traded his kisses for small bites up the line of your neck until his hot breath was against your ear.

“I love you too, my scary Devil-man.”

Once more the gentle sounds of the shower lulled Matt into peace, but this time you followed. You stepped back to pull him under the path of the water and he closed his eyes as you rinsed the shampoo from his hair, fingers scratching along his scalp. Rumbles of affection from deep in his chest, pressed up against yours like a ridiculously warm, loving barnacle.

The end of the shower dragged out for far longer than necessary, only able to do things the few times you were able to peel Matt from you for just moments at a time. He’d always come back, grabbing at you with a frown until you let him slide his face into the crook of your neck again, gently rubbing his stubble across goosebumps on your skin. He finally detached once you were out and dry, just long enough for both of you to get dressed for bed.

“I love you so much,” he repeated his earlier statement this time in the form of a kiss on your forehead as you started to drift to sleep with your head on him. The soothing sounds of his heartbeat and the soft purrs in response to being tangled with you, almost a lullaby. Too tired to respond out loud, you pressed a sloppy kiss to the center of his chest under you and the last thing you heard was his gentle chuckle at your sleepy affection.

Having you near was always a balm to his scattered soul, your mere presence in his apartment enough to turn it into a home. A home you both shared with the giddy excitement of teenagers in love, it felt new every day. He couldn’t wait to ask you to move in, but he did, instead cuddling further into you as he joined you in sleep.

After all, it was only one more night.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x you #daredevil x y/n #daredevil fanfiction #ezra writes #absolutely unedited and unbeta'd #i love him he's so soft #pretty man #touch starved baby #1k #2k #ezras hall of fame

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader

[luminnara]

It’s Been A Long, Long Time | Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader ch 3

Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back…and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Warnings: A/B/O, some light angst

Tags:  @kyrah-williams  @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo 

Amoretta woke to the sound of a familiar alarm blaring through the compound. It was loud enough to make her wince and curl up, seeking out the warmth of her alpha while he laid next to her. She knew what the sound meant; he was officially finished with his rut, and they were going to be separated again. 

The thought made her heart ache. She couldn’t take much more of this. All she wanted was to stay by his side, her instincts telling her that he was the perfect one to watch over and protect her even if she didn’t need a protector. Though all of her suppressants greatly toned down the way she yearned and cried for him, nothing could erase those feelings completely, and each time the guards came to take him away from her, it hurt a little bit more. 

“‘Mega,” he said, voice extra low and rumbly from sleeping. 

“Alpha,” she sighed, rubbing her nose against his neck. 

He returned the gesture, tucking his face down into her scent gland and inhaling deeply. Even though she didn’t smell as strongly as omegas he encountered while out in the field, he loved her scent more than anything he had ever found before. Plus, her own scent being weaker meant that it was easier to cover her with his, and before the guards could come in and order him to leave, he made sure to rub his own gland all over her hair.

Amoretta sighed happily as he scented her, enjoying the smell of motor oil and cloves. If she was lucky, it wouldn’t fade before she got to see him again, and she would be able to at least catch a slight hint of him in her hair whenever she moved. 

“My omega,” the soldier purred, nosing her cheek to try and get her to look at him. 

She smiled softly, placing a hand on his jaw. “Your omega.”

The sound of a metal door sliding open made her close her eyes. She didn’t want this to end. She didn’t want to go back to her cell and spend another three months bored. 

“Longing,” a Russian voice over the intercom suddenly said. 

Amoretta let out a dejected breath. They were taking him away again. 

Her alpha moved to get up, listening to the words he had heard countless times before. His body was moving of its own volition, his limbs untangling themselves from hers even though he wanted to stay right there with her forever. 

“Rusted.”

He growled softly, a hand lingering on his omega’s neck. 

“Furnace.”

“Don’t go,” she whimpered, staring up at him with big, sad eyes. 

His hand moved to cup her cheek, a calloused thumb brushing over her skin. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to do as she asked. 

“Daybreak.”

He knew he was supposed to listen to the trigger words. They always commanded him, keeping him in check so that he could never have too much free thought. This time, he knew they would be followed by orders to get up and go back to his quarters so that he could await further instruction. 

But he didn’t want to.

“Seventeen.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he had had such a strong urge to disobey. It wasn’t overpowering, by any means, but it was enough for him to hesitate instead of walking away immediately. 

“Benign.”

The omega on the cot looked distraught.  He didn’t like it. He wanted her to be looking at him, paying attention to him, keeping her focus on him. She shouldn’t be staring at the wall, averting her gaze from the naked alpha before her. 

“”Mega,” the soldier said, getting her attention again. 

“Nine.”

“Hm?” she looked at him, and she felt like she was getting caught up in those icy blue eyes. 

“Homecoming.”

For a moment, he just looked down at her. She was so lovely, so perfect. 

“Be good.” he said.

She sat up slightly, staring at him. He had never said that before, not like that, not in that way. He called her good omega, good girl, pretty omega...he told her to be obedient, he praised her whenever she listened to him...but he had never told her be good, not with that tone. It was almost like...a warning, or...a promise?

“One.”

His nostrils flared, chest heaving with a sigh as he turned away from her. 

“Wait!” she called, reaching for him. 

But he was already facing the door. 

“Freight car.”

The soldier bowed his head. “Ready to comply.”

Amoretta let out a pitiful wail, watching helplessly as her alpha was ordered to return to his cell. The worst part was how he did so, and he seemed so willing to leave her behind. She knew he was under HYDRA’s full control, she knew that they liked to go in and mess with his brain whenever he showed any independence, but it still felt like she was being broken up with every single time she had to watch him leave. 

“Omega,” the voice said as the door slid shut. “Return to your cell and prepare for cryo.”

Another door opened and she stood slowly, wiping away tears that she knew she shouldn’t have had. She felt stupid for caring so much. Her hopes for a better, normal life were always crushed whenever HYDRA separated them again, and watching him walk away like that without a glance back at her was taking its toll on her emotional health. 

Without much other choice, she trudged down the narrow corridor, dragging her feet despite the threat of the cattle prods behind her. While the soldier was obedient enough to be allowed to walk on his own, they never trusted Amoretta, still all too aware of how much she liked to lash out at her handlers. 

They shoved her into her holding cell, where she spent about an hour waiting around before they returned to drag her off to the lab. Sometimes, when the soldier wasn’t going to be needed for a while, HYDRA put him in cryo. Amoretta once heard a doctor saying that it was to preserve his longevity, but she was pretty sure it was just that they didn’t want to deal with him all the time. When that happened, they put her into cryogenesis, too, letting her sleep until her alpha was thawed out. 

She supposed she should be grateful for the long naps, sometimes spending months or even years at a time not having to think about the way that HYDRA kept her as a prisoner, but she hated it. She didn’t like being away from her alpha, and whenever they brought her back out of cryo, she had a tendency to get sick. 

It wasn’t pleasant. 

This time, as the doctors strapped her down, she snarled at them. She was tired of this, tired of her life with HYDRA. She was reaching her breaking point, finally. 

“Quiet,” a beta doctor snapped, picking up a syringe. 

Amoretta rolled her eyes. “Or what?”

He glared at her. “You don’t want to find out.”

“You won’t get rid of me. You need me.” she growled. 

“We don’t need you.” the man scoffed. “We can easily find another omega that can take the serum. You aren’t special, Subject 1096.”

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you?” she dared to ask. “Why give me a number and keep me around for so long if I’m not important?”

“You omegas are always so sappy.” he said, a disgusted tone to his voice. “You’re convinced the Winter Soldier is your mate, aren’t you?”

“He seems to think so.” she said defensively. 

“Does he?” the doctor pressed the needle to her arm. “Or is he just happy to have something around to fuck?”

Amoretta wanted to bite his hand off for being so rude. She wanted to scream and snap and thrash, proving that they had made a mistake when they decided to give her of all omegas the serum. She was stronger than they knew. She could tear this doctor apart if she got ahold of his hand as he stood just out of her reach. Amoretta wanted HYDRA to regret the day they chose to make her so powerful. 

But the tranquilizer was already being injected into her veins, and she could feel herself floating away. Her vision swam, her skin suddenly feeling cold as she was lowered into her cryo pod for a nice, long, icy nap. 

She wished her soldier was there with her, but he wasn’t. Instead, she was all alone, left to sleep and hope for sweet dreams filled with his cold blue eyes and the low rumble of his voice.

--

“Widow, you copy?”

“Loud and clear, Cap.” a feminine voice said through the earpiece. 

Steve Rogers nodded to himself as he crept through the dark hallways. Checking out abandoned HYDRA bases wasn’t his favorite pastime, but it was an important one, and he’d be damned if he let Nat and Clint go without him for a mission like this. Besides, he owed it to Bucky to make sure everything was taken care of; he knew how much it frustrated his friend that he wasn’t allowed near HYDRA facilities yet. 

But they just couldn’t risk anything happening, not when he had finally managed to free himself of HYDRA’s influence on his mind. 

Thanks, Wakanda.

“What’s your position, Cap?” Natasha asked. 

“Northeast hall,” Steve answered as he rounded a corner. “Looks like medical facilities. There’s no sign of--”

As soon as he had opened his mouth, a row of low emergency lights flickered to life on the floor, illuminating his path and bathing the hallway in a red glow. 

“There’s still power. Stay alert.” he warned. 

“Copy that.”

Shield in hand, Steve made his way to a set of doors, nudging them open as quietly as he could. 

He really wasn’t expecting what he saw. 

He had definitely stepped into some sort of medical bay, gurneys and instruments left abandoned whenever HYDRA had up and left this place. If it weren’t for the staleness of the air and complete absence of life, it would have looked like the doctors had been there only moments before. 

As Steve made his way around crude operating tables, sheet plastic crinkling under his boots, he spotted a soft blue glow coming from a small doorway in the corner of the room. He adjusted his grip, keeping his shield raised just in case, but as he neared the lightsource, he lowered it again. 

“Nat, you’re gonna wanna come see this.”

It only took a few minutes for Black Widow to reach her teammate, and when she did, she let out a low whistle. 

“That’s a cryo pod.” she said, leaning towards the metal device. “And it sure looks like it’s being used.”

“Is whoever’s in it alive?” Steve asked. 

“Only one way to find out. Care to do the honors?” Natasha nodded towards the metal handle on the front of the pod. 

“Is this safe?” Steve put down his shield.

“This place has been abandoned since the late 80s. Seems like the end of the Cold War scared HYDRA away from a lot of their bases.” Natasha said, peering through the small, frosted glass window into the pod. “But there’s definitely someone in there.”

“Well, we can’t exactly lug this whole thing out to the plane,” Steve sighed, grabbing the heavy metal handle. 

As he wrenched it to the side, he could hear a pneumatic hiss, air rushing out of the lock. With a heavy clang, the pod opened, and Steve was able to pull the door to the side. 

Doing so revealed a young woman, her scent too muted by the chill of cryo sleep to tell what her secondary gender was. She was nude, the sight of her causing Steve to avert his gaze in embarrassment. Natasha either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and as she pulled a glove off and pressed her hand to a cold forehead, there seemed to be movement behind the woman’s eyelids. 

“Wow. She’s frozen.” Widow commented, moving her hand down to press two fingers against her neck. “...I’ve got a pulse here, though. We’d better get her out to the transport.”

Steve nodded, taking Natasha’s place as she stepped back to call in their find. Still doing his best to be a gentleman and avoid looking at the girl, he quickly unbuckled the brittle leather straps holding the girl in place, freeing her arms and legs before pulling her out of the pod. Her skin was icy against him, but Nat was right--he could feel her heart beating slowly, her pulse speeding up towards something more normal and less like hibernation. 

“Here. Found this in a cupboard.” Natasha appeared with a musty blanket in her arms, draping it around the woman’s shoulders. 

Steve wrapped it around her before picking her up, finally daring to look down at her now that she was covered. Her hair was long and dark, and though her cheeks were a bit gaunt, no doubt thanks to HYDRA’s general disregard for human life, she didn’t seem too worse for wear. He couldn’t see any bruises on her face or neck, and her scent glands looked to be free of any mating bonds. 

Well, at least she wasn’t missing anybody special, right? Being separated from a bonded mate for so long could kill a person, especially if they happened to be an alpha or an omega. Steve still couldn’t smell for sure, but this girl had such a small stature that he had a suspicion she might be the latter. 

He caught a glimpse of a thin metal identification band around her wrist, almost like the kind used to track wild animals. On it, Steve could see SUBJECT 1096 stamped in, and he couldn’t help but grimace. What did that mean? That she was an experiment?

As he followed Natasha out into the abandoned hallway, the girl in his arms stirred slightly. She rubbed her cheek against Steve’s chest, nuzzling into him as if searching for a scent. When she didn’t seem to find what she expected, he caught her furrowing her brow, her lips turning down in a slight frown. 

“Alpha?” she asked quietly, voice barely audible. 

“You’re safe now,” Steve said, trying to reassure her. She was right, he was an alpha, and he did his best to cover her in a calming scent. The last thing he wanted was a panicked omega on his hands. 

“Not...alpha…” she said weakly, eyes still closed. She raised a hand, grabbing at Steve’s chest with tired fingers. “T-take me home…”

“We’re going somewhere safe,” he said, quickening his pace. “I promise. You’re okay now.”

She let out a tiny whine, squirming half heartedly in his grip. “Want...my alpha…”

As Steve and Natasha walked out of the hidden HYDRA bunker and waited for Clint to bring the plane down, the scent of fresh air finally roused the omega enough that she opened her eyes. Steve looked down at her, worry written all over his face, and as her gaze met his, she looked disappointed. 

Those weren’t the blue eyes she was hoping for. She didn’t know this alpha, and she wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted her soldier back, not this stranger. But she was too tired to fight, still drowsy from her time in cryo, and as he carried her onto the transport, she passed out again, hoping that her alpha would come and find her and take her away from the people she was stuck with now. 

“What--what’s this?” Clint asked, turning in the pilot’s seat as Nat and Steve boarded the plane. 

“She was in cryo,” Natasha said, grabbing an emergency cot and laying it out in the back. “Pulse is there, but we’ve got no idea how healthy she is otherwise.”

“We need to get her back to the tower.” Steve said, setting her down. 

“You got it, Cap.” Clint turned back around. “Weather’s good. Should be just a couple hours til we’re there.”

“I’ll let Bruce know.” Natasha took the copilot’s seat, immediately grabbing a headset to radio back. 

As the craft took off, Amoretta was stuck in an unwelcome sleep. The last thing she wanted was to be unconscious right now, when she knew she was surrounded by unfamiliar alphas. She was grateful for the fresh air, but with it came the scents of people, of strangers, and she didn’t like that one bit. As out of it as she was, she knew that she had been taken out of cryo, and everything else just felt wrong. 

The alpha she had woken up with wasn’t hers. She had been so happy at first, thinking that her soldier had been the one to carry her out of the base...until she caught his scent and realized that it was wrong. The second she knew she was in someone else’s arms, all she wanted to do was thrash and kick and bite, but she simply didn’t have the strength yet.

So she had to settle for sleeping, and, thankfully, dreaming. 

Cryo never seemed to give her dreams, at least not any that she could ever remember. It felt like it had been forever since she had a normal nap, though, and her mind was happy to wander. Thoughts of her soldier swirled around each other, and for the first time in a long time, she was sleeping peacefully.

With nothing else to do, Steve took a seat next to the omega, strapping himself in. And leaning back with a sigh. Who was she, and why was her scent so muted? He had never encountered an omega who was so...well, scentless before. Even when they took suppressants to keep their heats at bay, they still reeked of omega. He never thought anything could change that, but apparently, something could. 

As they flew home, he found himself staring down at her, wondering why HYDRA had her in cryo for so long. She had to be important for them to keep her around, right? They weren’t known for wasting their time with people they couldn’t use. But, then again...what use could they possibly have for an omega who didn’t even smell like one? It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe she was a test subject.” Natasha said, practically reading his mind. 

“Think so?” Steve asked, tearing his eyes away from the omega to look at the spy. 

“We found her in a lab.” She shrugged. “Before the Berlin Wall came down, they had their hands in everything. The Soviets funded countless experiments on omegas.”

Steve frowned. “Guess I missed a lot while I was in that ice.”

“Eh, not much.” Clint said. “Just the same old shit.”

Steve gave him a look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Same old stuff. Better, goody two shoes?”

“Better.”

Barton snorted a laugh. “Come on, work is the one place I can swear without a kid overhearing! You’ve gotta give me a pass once in a while.”

“Never said you couldn’t swear,” Steve sighed, leaning his head back again. He wanted to know what HYDRA was doing with this omega. Were they experimenting on her? She looked like she was fairly healthy, so whatever they had done must not have taken much of a physical toll on her. 

There was also the matter of why they had left her behind when they abandoned their base. There hadn’t been any signs of struggle, at least not that he had seen. It looked like HYDRA had simply chosen to get up and leave one day a few decades ago, with no obvious reasoning as to why. 

Steve had to admit he didn’t really understand why they did what they did. His job wasn’t to analyze their motives, though; his job was to stop them, and that’s what he was going to do. Rescuing this omega was just one small part of that. Of course, it would help if he knew why he had stumbled across her, and what they had been using her for. 

As soon as they landed, Bruce’s assistants were waiting with a gurney, Dr. Banner himself standing nearby. Steve rushed the still-sleeping omega out, placing her down as gently as he could and then watching as she was taken inside to their medical facilities. 

“So...you found her in cryo?” Bruce asked, following after his new patient. 

Steve nodded stiffly. “There was no one else there. The whole place was running on backup batteries.”

Banner made a thoughtful noise as they walked inside. “She’s been asleep this whole time?”

“She woke up briefly while I was carrying her out to the transport. Other than that, she’s been out cold.”

“We’ll have to run some tests to see what’s going on with her.”

“Is she gonna be alright, Doc?” Steve asked.

Bruce stopped outside the lab doors. “Without knowing how long she was on ice and what exactly they were doing with her...it’s hard to say.”

Steve frowned. 

“But...the fact that she hasn’t gone into shock yet is a good sign.” He turned to enter the room. “I’ll have FRIDAY grab you when I’ve got more answers.”

Steve just nodded, standing back and watching the doctor disappear after the mystery omega. Banner was a good guy, and as an omega himself, he would do everything he could to ensure that this one was well taken care of. Steve had no doubt in his mind that Bruce would see that she pulled through. 

Something wasn’t sitting right about all this, though. The situation was bothering him beyond belief. Seriously, what was going on? What was he missing? What was so special about subject 1096?

Maybe Bucky would have an idea.

#alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #alpha!bucky #abo #omegaverse #it's been a long long time #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

[noctumbra]

pleasure

summary — he's been tense for so long, on alert, waiting for something to happen. you didn't like the way he held himself, so you decided to help your daddy relax.

pairing — beefy!bucky barnes x reader

warnings — smut, +18, civil war era, post tws, face fucking, oral sex (m receiving), daddy kink (not ddlg), dirty talk, degradation

a/n — i saw that gif set and,,,,, wanted to scream about it this way hope y'all like it! forgive me if i have any typos, i wrote this on my phone. (i don't own the gif)

Bucky had been waiting for the other shoe to drop for a while now, and even though he had you to distract him, he just couldn't let that feeling go.

Knowing him all too well, you were aware of his rigid posture throughout the day. You saw his eyes dart around all the time; looking for something that wasn't there, or listening to people in the building going about on their days with his enhanced hearing.

You wanted to help him relax, to see him blissed and maybe not thinking anything but you.

"Bucky," you started, drawing his attention from the window to you. You heard him humming, a sound that confirms he listened to you, but that was not what you want. Not exactly.

"Daddy," you whimpered just a little. His steel blue cold eyes snapped at you. Surpassing a smile that wants to take over your face at his reaction, you wiggled on your place all satisfied. "Wanna play, can we?"

Bucky cursed under his breath. He couldn't say no to you when you were being so soft and submissive for him, wiggling on your place with the extra energy or the urge to satisfy him. The gears in his mind turned quickly: He didn't want to let his guard down, but he wanted to play with you.

"Please?" You pouted just a tad, to tip him over the edge of hesitating. Bucky frowned.

"Tell me," he murmured from his place by the window. "Tell me how you wanna play, honey baby." You felt your cheeks heating up at the pet name, you bit your lip. Then, you stood up from the small bed —you were living in a studio apartment— and made your way towards him. You preened under his dark look, watching your every move. You took a deep breath when you stood right in front of him and—

You dropped to your knees, eye-level with his crotch, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out.

"Oh, fuck," Bucky whispered harshly, not expecting this at all. "You wanna get your throat fucked, little one?" He asked, his metal thumb was tracing the line of your bottom lip slowly. You nodded. Never breaking the eye contact, you closed your lips around his metal digit and sucked on it.

"Shit, shit—" Bucky groaned lowly. His beautiful blue eyes were now black, his face was shadowed with the darkness of his arousal. He pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth, pressing it on your tongue, he made you drool.

"Yeah?" He tutted when you moaned around it. "You want my cock? My thumb isn't enough for your slutty mouth?" You moaned again and shook your head. Bucky chuckled darkly and caused a shiver to roll down your spine. He pulled his thumb back just a little, only to press it back with three more fingers.

You whined loudly as his fingers fucked your throat, making the drool wet your chin and even slide down your neck.

"God, fuck, dolly," he grunted. "Lookit you, so messy." Moaning quietly to himself, Bucky pulled his fingers out . His flesh hand unbuttoned his jeans, pulling his zipper down, his cock bobbed free. You whimpered at the sight of him; his cock hard as a rock, all angry red but a little purple at the top, fat and huge.

Only for you.

"Ask for it," he ordered. You whimpered again, but obeyed quickly.

"Please, Daddy," you begged. "I want you to fuck my throat. Can you, please?" Bucky growled.

"Open," he said, gruffly, and tapped your mouth with his cock. You did as your told and opened your mouth.

"Lick." Stucking your tongue out, you licked his cock from its base to its tip, giving his tip a couple kitten licks.

"Suck. Tip only." You closed your mouth around his cock head, hollowing your cheeks, you sucked. The precome that got smeared on your tongue had you moan out loud and around his cock, making him groan with you.

"So good," he murmured. "So good for her Daddy, mmm..." Feeling hot with the praise, you closed your eyes and suckled on his tip a bit more. You felt his flesh hand on your cheek, giving you a light slap, it slid into your hair along with his metal one.

"Take all of it," he ordered this time, and you relaxed your jaw, doing as he said, you swallowed his huge shaft in one-go. His thigh muscle jerked, a loud groan made its way out from the back of his throat involuntarily.

"Fuck," he growled. "Your throat is fucking heaven, reserved for me." You hummed approvingly around him.

Yes, you thought. It's only for you, Daddy.

Pulling on your hair, you got the signal. It was him telling you to let him take over. You heard him chuckle darkly again and felt all the muscles in your body turned jello.

"Yeah, little dolly," he whispered. "Let me break you, take over, c'mon. Give yourself to me, and I'll promise to make it up to you."

You felt your brain get fuzzy and did as he said.

Relaxing your throat, opening your mouth as much as you could, you let Bucky, your Daddy, thrust into your mouth. He started slow at first, almost a lazy pace. You knew he was gonna get mean and fast and hard, and honestly, you couldn't wait for it.

"Jesus fucking Christ, baby—" Bucky gasped and his lazy pace got a little faster. His balls were hitting your jaw lightly with his every thrust, your mouth was doing obscene gagging sounds while the drool on your face creating 'slapslapslap' sounds in the half-empty room.

Bucky growled as you whimpered around his length. You loved the way he used you; loved it when he held your head in its place and used your mouth like it was just a hole to fuck.

His hands formed into fists, holding your head still so that he could fasten his pace. The lazy drags of his cock turned into filthy and harsh thrusts. With each thrust, his balls were hitting your chin faster and harder, your nose poking the soft, dark curls at the base of his cock.

Growling, almost roaring, Bucky buried himself deep in your throat, holding your there and making you gag.

"Take it, babygirl," he sneered. His voice was deep due to the lust flowing in his veins. "I know you can. You're my baby, my little one, I know you can take your Daddy's cock all the way." His whispered encouragement words were getting to you as you tried not to cough. You wanted to make Daddy proud, so you tried to breathe through your nose and let the control over your muscles go.

"Just like that, fuck, baby," Bucky moaned. His breath was hitching, thick thigh muscles were jumping and cock twitching in your mouth; you knew he was close. You felt the sting at the base of your skull when he pulled you off his cock, listening to your gasps and watching you catch your breath.

Suddenly, you weren't on the floor. Your back hit the soft mattress, and then there was a huge muscle mass hovering over your body.

"You're so amazing," Bucky groaned as he slipped his hands into your pajama bottom and pulled it down with one move. Then, you were flipped on your stomach, ass up and your face was buried in his pillow.

You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with his smell, you moaned when you felt his fingers at your entrance.

"So goddamn wet," he hissed. "Is this all for me, honey?" he asked you, then. You nodded.

"Yes, Daddy!" You wailed. "All for you! Only for you!" Bucky growled approvingly.

"Damn fucking right only for me," he snarled into your ear. His fingers were plunging in and out of you quickly now. You whimpered and moaned and bucked your hips against his hand.

"Daddy—" You gasped when he flicked your clit. "Please! Wan' you in me! Please!"

"You're a greedy baby today," he whispered, taking your earlobe in his mouth and biting on it gently. You gasped again. Daddy knew all your sensitive spots and knew how to play with your pussy, you felt like you were about to pass out.

"Please..." You sobbed, your tears wetting the pillow under your cheeks. Bucky cooed at you lovingly. He kissed your cheek, your bare shoulder and bit down on your neck gently. You wiggled your hips. You were dying to have him in you.

"Sshh," he said, and you sobbed because his cock was kissing your pussy, nudging at your entrance. "Got you," he whispered again, "I got you, babylove. Daddy's here, ssshh."

Draping his still clothes torso onto your back, he slid all the way inside in one slow but smooth move. You choked on your moan, fisted the bedding and let out a loud moan. His hips were flushed with yours, filling you so fucking nicely.

"Oh, Daddy," you whimpered. Bucky hummed as he grabbed your hair in his hand and pulled your head up a little with it.

Without saying anything, Bucky started to pound into you. His cock abusing your pussy the best way possible, you moaned and screamed loudly because Daddy was in so deep— His balls were snug against your lips with each thrust, his thighs were hitting yours and making the obscene skin-slapping-skin sound echo in the room.

"Fuck, holy fuck— Sweetheart," Bucky managed. "You feel— so tight, so good, fuuck—" You whimpered and gasped and moaned, his cock stroking every single soft spot you have perfectly.

"Daddy—" You breathed. "'m close, Daddy! Can I— please!" Bucky moaned. He could feel how close you were. Your pussy was literally milking the come out of him.

"Yeah, baby. Come," he whispered. His metal arm was around your body, his flesh hand was still holding you half-upright from your hair. "Come for Daddy, c'mon," he moaned.

You screamed when you came around his cock. The tight grip of your pussy went even tighter somehow, making Bucky's eyes cross and making him groan loudly into your neck. Your thighs were trembling underneath his own, your hips were bucking against him probably without you being aware of and your face— God, your face. Bucky could watch it for the rest of his life because you looked so fucking divine when you came.

"Bucky..." You whispered, but then you sobbed. "Daddy, come in me, please. Please, I need it!" You hiccuped.

Bucky cursed. His hips thrusted in and out of you even faster, cock hitting your now-oversensitive spots. He felt his balls tighten and then he gasped. His cock spurting white ropes of come into your pussy, Bucky groaned loud and long with you gasping under him softly. Breathless, he dropped onto your body but minding his weight.

You hummed. You felt safe and sound and loved caged under him like this, you giggled happily. Bucky made a questioning sound.

"Like being caged like this," you whispered. "Love when you use me, Daddy." Bucky smiled fondly at you. He kissed your cheek and rolled onto the empty space next to you, only to pull you back in his arms after he settled. You hummed again as you wiggled closer to him.

Bucky was silent for a while so much so thay you thought he fell asleep. So, you jumped lightly when he spoke: "Thank you."

It was a whisper, but you could hear the emotion behind it. You smiled. Looking back at him over your shoulder, you pulled him in for a soft kiss.

"Anything for my Daddy whenever he needs it," you replied and made him snort.

Bucky snuggling you tightly, both you had happy and relaxed smiles on your faces when you fell asleep.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky smut #daddy bucky

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go 

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”  

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid. 

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room. 

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?” 

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” 

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.” 

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!” 

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him. 

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.” 

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions. 

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.” 

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?” 

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.” 

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression. 

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.” 

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.” 

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours. 

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you. 

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?” 

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.” 

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.” 

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure. 

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.” 

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?” 

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.” 

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.” 

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.” 

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?” 

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.” 

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.” 

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.” 

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.” 

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?” 

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” 

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes. 

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.” 

#hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #hannigram #hannigram x reader #the sommelier #wine #tw trauma #tw victim blaming #tw alcohol

[rotshop]

SORRRRYYYY i promise ill get 2 reqs soon,,,,it is just one of those times,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,fuxzzy brain momense

n e way here s this bc i am also haing another catperson moment. ill proof read this later maybe . who knows.

tw for one illusion to smoking / nicotine

-

You barely even heard your own growling. It was a lower and quieter one, you were sure it could be mistaken for purring if someone only took a quick glance at you. Though, the pinned back ears and light 'thump' your tail made against the floor was probably a definite indicator that wasn't right. To say that the frustration and irritation was clearly written on your figure was a complete lie.

You were a little too lost in your thoughts to really pay attention to anything else that was going on. Staring at the mess of cloth and fluff that was currently your bed, you allowed yourself to zone out. It'd all started with you tossing and turning for a little longer than liked. Sure, while you were out like a light most nights, there were some where you would stay up a bit longer.

This though? It'd been a little over two hours since you first dropped down, leaving your patience all too thin. At first, you'd deemed it was just you thinking too hard, shifting your thoughts to some lighter little story. Then, it was simply that you needed a drink of water. Then, it was some other thing. At some point, you'd figured that you were just uncomfortable ; either too cold or too hot, feeling bare and exposed or suffocated under the weight of your blankets, this or that endlessly.

With a little sigh you pried yourself from the depths of your subconscious, dragging yourself forward to try and fix things again. You knew all too well that you weren't going to accomplish much of anything, you'd likely just irritate yourself further and you'd end up just laying and staring at the ceiling all night. It definitely beat sitting there and listening to Sanford's snoring though, so it was something to do at least. Begrudgingly, you found your hands dragging blankets and pillows around once again.

Deimos was no stranger to waking up in the middle of the night, if anything he was more surprised if it didn't happen. It wasn't anything too bad, most times he'd just get up for a bit, get a drink or walk around, lay back down and conk out again. It was oddly peaceful in its own way, seeing and hearing just how quiet and still the base could be in the dead of night. He'd been able to train himself to pick up even the smallest of sounds on nights like this, so it wasn't difficult to pick up on all the shuffling.

He'd found himself padding over to your room quietly, just in case you really were just asleep. He'd learned the hard way just how spiteful cats can be when you wake them up before they'd like. Very quickly, he'd realized you were in fact awake, fidgeting endlessly and uncomfortably. He'd paused in the doorway for a moment before carefully drawing closer, you not taking any notice despite the little flicks your ears made at the sound.

With a grin, he'd leaned over you, placing his hands on your shoulders firmly.

"What'cha doin?"

You'd startled immediately, the beginnings of a louder-than-either-of-you-would-like yowl starting in your throat before he'd slapped a hand over your mouth.

"Hey- Chill out, 's just me!"

You'd glared back at him briefly, pushing his hand away from your mouth roughly as you ducked away.

"Yeah, thanks, I never would've guessed from the dusty-ass bandages. When was the last time you changed those?"

With a little frown at your response he leaned onto the bed, giving you a bit of space. "An 'Oh, hey my dearly loved friend, how are you doing on this wonderful night?' or something would'a been nice."

You'd scoffed a bit and rolled your eyes at that, turning back you attention to the tangle of your sheets. "Riight right, why exactly are you bothering me again?"

"Dunno, why aren't you asleep at the lord's hour of 3am?" He'd hummed, cynicism lacing into his voice.

You'd sighed, harsher than he'd expected, "Well- I would be asleep if it weren't for dumb luck deciding no! I don't get to get a wink of rest on some random night for no reason even though my survival kinda hinges on me, y'know, not being so tired I fatally fuck up."

He'd blinked a bit at your response, falling into silence temporarily. While most interactions between the two of you kept up a playfully argumentative and rough angle, there were times you both let that slip for a while. It was obvious this whole thing was getting to you a little more than you'd like to admit or at least more than you could without getting loud. So, with a glimmer of anxiety, he'd spoken up once more.

"You want me to help you?"

You'd paused briefly in your motions before looking back to him, "Huh? I..What do you mean by that? I swear, if this is some dumb shit now is not the time-"

"'M being serious!" He'd retorted, "Look, it's clear you're pissed and you aren't making much progress in here. So, why not just cut your losses and try and sleep in my room?"

You'd stared at him for a moment blankly, looking for something in his expression. He'd looked right back at you, ignoring that little bit of nervousness that'd tempted to make him waver in his ministrations. Eventually though, you decided you hadn't found it as you broke your gaze.

"Fine. Just let me grab my things first, you can go try and make sure it isn't a total wreck in there while you wait so I don't burst out laughing at the place and wake everyone else up."

He'd beamed at that, you having to bite back your own smile from the little bit of it you seen.

"Y'got it. Take your time, kitty!" he'd chimed before rushing off, nearly face first into the wall of the hall as he took off.

You'd allowed yourself some indulgence, smiling fondly as you heard his steps fade into the quiet of the night. Shaking your head, you'd turned to pluck a few blankets of yours up off the mattress, tucking them under your arm gingerly. You would never admit to yourself the way that you could feel how much looser you'd gotten after that. You would never truly acknowledge and affirm how you could feel the smile on your lips and the quiet little starts of a purr in the back of your throat.

--[ extra shit kinda maybe a little i GUESS ]

With a last little stretch you finally settled, a sigh prying its way past your lips as you let yourself go limp. You could feel exhaustion way heavy in your limbs and behind your eyes, words and thought beginning to fail you as you focused what little you had left on other things. You'd focused on the smell of nicotine that clung onto the ratted shirt he wore, the beating of his heart and the way he carefully dragged his nails behind your ears in little lines and circles.

"Y'comfy?" He'd asked, half-registering how quiet and gentle his own voice sounded.

You'd nodded lightly, nudging just a touch closer to him as his breath hitched.

"Yeah, thanks Dei."

"'S nothing, goodnight."

"Night, love you."

He couldn't help the grin that broke out onto his face at those words.

#experimenting w/ how i write deimos a little bit #by that i mean im making him scout tf2 voice #deimos x reader #madness combat imagines #madcom imagines #madness combat x reader #madcom x reader #rot writes

[idesofrevolution]

Okay: Bad Boy Musky Transformation it is. Enjoy!

I knew, of course, that Marco sold whatever the degenerates in the neighborhood needed. Weed, Acid, Ecstasy, Shrooms, Coke... take out the hard ones and you have his menu. He always seemed to afford the good things in life with his dark money. Two weeks ago he’d bought a Ducati; a week prior it was a 60 inch TV! God knows it wasn’t from dutiful employment, but I knew damn well just what it was that afforded him these luxuries: whatever could be inhaled, snorted, or smoked. And yet, here I was, working two jobs at McDonalds & Popeyes just trying to afford my garbage studio apartment. 

He’d only ever been kind to me, I’ll admit. He’d bring by a pizza he said he couldn’t finish, or his old speakers he’d upgraded. Nice guy, if a bit dim. Always out in the courtyard, laying by the pool with his shirt off. Always surrounded by other guys who’d slip him a hundred. It’s not fair! Four years of college and what did I have to show for it? Student loans and no job prospects. Yet there he was: no trade, no job, no future really; but living like a king. So it was one day where I’ll fully admit that my jealousy overwhelmed me. 

I was short that month, for the first time mind you. Short only by a hundred dollars for rent, but I had already gotten a notice on my door. Pay tomorrow or get lost. It was this desperation that made me remember every deal that thug made, every 8-ball, every eighth, every pill... Would he really notice a hundred missing from his pile? I knew for a fact that every Wednesday night, precisely at 10, Marco would leave for the hookah club and not return until 4 or 5 at the earliest. I knew he locked his door, a few locks actually, but I also knew that the moron left his window cracked nearly every night. It just so happened that on that particular evening, he did just that. 

In that fleeting moment of curiosity, a plan built up in my head. I watched him loudly slam his door, lock his several locks, and saunter out down the stairs. I waited about five minutes before creeping out of my apartment, careful to watch for other prying eyes. I had to be quick. I made a run for it, bolting to his open window on the balcony. It slid open quite easily, and I heaved myself over the ledge and into Marco’s dark apartment. I landed on the ratty old carpet and quickly shut the window. Looking around the apartment, it was a three bedroom for sure. In the same state of disrepair as mine, but furnished with some of the most expensive, gaudy things I’ve ever seen. Brand new leather couches, a coffee table made completely of glass, a massive stereo system next to his 60 inch TV... An absolute manchild lived here.

However, I wasn’t there for the TV or the oversized sectional. I had a sneaking suspicion that he, like many of us, kept his extra money somewhere in the bedroom. Ensuring that no noise would come from my steps, I snuck quietly down the hall, covered in paintings of scantily clad men toward the bedroom. Interesting, he swung that way, huh? Opening the door, a wafting stink hit me in the face. The room was covered in dirty laundry, used condoms, half rolled  blunts, and lines of coke on nearly every surface. This is what I was expecting, and I was surely right. Holding my nose shut, I crept toward his dresser, and began to ruffle through his belongings. Damp socks, damp underwear, damp lycra, everything in there was damp and reeking. I slammed each of the drawers shut, and opened the closet. There, on the tile floor behind rows of pristine sneakers were a pair of destroyed old Vans; and inside each were rolls of hundred dollar bills. Jackpot. I knelt down and grabbed one of the rolls, momentarily unclamping my nose to remove the rubber band. The smell was unbelievable. It took me aback, just how strong it was. I’m sure each of the pairs of Huaraches, AF1′s, and the like had strong scents of their own, but from this single pair of beat up old Vans was the most salty, sweet, almost cheesy footmusk that I’d ever encountered.

For a mere second, I contemplated bringing one of the shoes to my face, letting the dirty, wet insole touch the tip of my nose. However, it was in that second that I should have just left well enough alone. The lightswitch flipped on, and looming over me was the hulking, shirtless Marco. In my right hand was his wad of cash, in the left was his grody sneaker. My face flushed, and my stomach dropped to my toes. He crossed his arms and smiled.

“If you wanted a loan you could have just asked...” Words were caught in the back of my throat. I wanted so terribly to make up some fantastic excuse as to my presence in his closet, but the frog in my throat had other ideas. The growing grin of Marco, paired with him beginning to kneel down to my level made my heart nearly stop beating. “And if you wanted a sniff I’d have given it to you.” He smirked and slowly pulled the shoe from my hand, taking a quick whiff of it’s stench. He turned quickly and laughed, waving the wafting scent away from his face before grabbing the back of my head and plunging it right into the shoe. “Okay, deep breath now.”

I tried to struggle, to fight back, but the man was nearly twice my size and pure muscle. There was no chance of me weaseling my way out of this. I had to just play along with this weird fetish that he seemed to have. I inhaled a quick breath, barely getting any stink. 

“No, no. I said deep breath.” I felt a strong hand shoot to my crotch, grabbing my junk within my jeans. The shock of this invasive gesture broke my concentration, and a gasp of breath escaped from my mouth. Into my nose, my mouth, my sinuses, my brain did the musk penetrate. I moaned loudly, the confusion of a powerful grope and a powerful scent submerged me into a strange state of consciousness. Or rather, a lack thereof. I was inhaling the footsmell like air, and I couldn’t get enough. My cock began to tent in my pants, and I felt my right hand drop the roll of cash I thought I so desperately needed. “Ahh, haha. That’s right, let it in. Let me in.” 

His voice seemed distorted, as if we were in a deep cavern, it echoed in my skull. He removed the shoe from my face, pulling me to my feet by my bulging groin. Guiding me toward his bed, I sat down on the smelly sheets, no longer in complete control of my faculties.

“Take your clothes off.” His words entered my ears like soft velvet, it felt wrong to disobey. In fact, I wanted to obey. For the first time, I wanted to listen to whatever this man told me to do. His bulging muscles, his plump lips, the way his crooked smile felt so dangerously mischievous, the way his smell took my breath away like a vacuum. For the first time, this man was everything I wanted. I ripped my clothes off and lay there on his bed wearing nothing but my bare, cold skin. Smiling, he took hold of my throbbing, upright cock in his rough hand. Ripples of goosebumps ran up and down my body as he slowly ran his calloused hand up and down my shaft. Each stroke allowed a groan or a moan to sneak out of my lips, before he leaned down atop me and planted a soft kiss onto my lips. He tasted like an ashtray and as his tongue slipped into my mouth, rolling atop my own, I could feel some of his taste transfer to me. I can’t explain it, as we kissed I could feel that taste of cigarettes and blunts seep into my tongue. I pulled his pants down, his thick, uncut cock tumbling out of his compression shorts onto my stomach. He smiled as he pulled away from the kiss. I stuck my finger under his foreskin, swiping it around, and brought it to my lips. It tasted like ripe, sweaty cock, and I began to crave it. “Oh yeah, babe you’re a keeper.”

He jumped up, and pulled me toward the edge of the bed. I got a perfect frontal view of his gorgeous cock and saggy balls, his virile and manly smell kept pouring into my nose and into the depths of my mind. He grabbed me by the back of my hair and pulled my eager mouth forward, engulfing his slick, smelly cock. I suckled, my loud slurping seeming making him even hornier. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him fiddling with something just out of view. As he thrust down my throat, I realized just what it was that he had. His used condom, I presume from whatever sexy fuck occurred the night prior, was in his hands. I closed my eyes as I felt its rubbery walls close tightly around the tip of my cock, slickly sliding down my shaft until his cold, creamy load touched my slit. With a loud snap, I looked down and saw his thick white cum completely enveloping my cockhead. I only got a quick glance before he’d pulled out of my mouth, replacing his succulent cock with my now favorite smelly shoe. I licked the sole, letting the thick toejam season my ashy tongue as the musk thrust into my nose once more. 

I knew what was coming, and I was prepared when I felt that slippery cock slip like butter into my tight hole. He’d grabbed my cock, covered in his seed, and jerked in tandem with his thrusts into my ass. Sensory overload. His smell, his seed, his cock, his taste, the very sight of him... It was all him. He was marking me. I was his property, and I was glad to oblige. Every single hard smack against my ass cheeks, every stinking waft into my brain, every breath of his smoky breath coming out of my mouth... It was too much! He fucked like a madman, stroking my cock into his slime until I felt a strange tingling in my cockhead. It was a slick, penetrating sensation of his seed... slurping into my slit! I was nearly screaming as I felt it sink deep down my shaft, into my engorging balls. It was stewing, brewing inside my growing sack! I heard him howl as he unloaded his fresher load into me. 

I felt his cock within me shooting spurt after spurt... going from ounces to gallons very quickly. His cum spread throughout my body like water into a balloon. I could feel the silky liquid beneath my skin, creeping, inflating every part of my body. It seeped up my throat, into my mouth, behind my very eyes into my brain. The pressure grew as I felt growth, I felt strength, I felt different. My body was gelatinous beneath my skin, before slowly firming into a much larger form. An improved form. I pulled Marco’s shoe from my face, and looked at my changing body. The cum kept flowing as I saw my muscled arms, my bulging abs, a grotesquely inflated ballsack... He leaned down and kissed me again, giving me another much needed taste of his addictive taste. My brain was melting, reforming, changing... Things were fuzzy and blurred before it was my turn to blow my load. In it, was who I used to be, my failures, my strife, my worries and obligations... Flowed like a jet out of my cock into his condom. Cum flowed out of the top of the condom, before Marco ripped it from me, letting the hot juices pool between us. 

“Lookin’ good, babe.” He smiled at me, and I looked at the man I loved with a smirk. Yeah, I sure fuckin’ do look good. We laid there all night long, fucking and kissing and sniffing and tasting... By the time the sun came up, I was in his clothes, I reeked of his sweaty manly musk, I was wearing my favorite pair of red Vans, and I was readying an 8-ball for pickup later that morning (after a few lines for me and the boyfriend). I kicked back and lit a cigarette, enjoying the laid back life I’d come to love with my man.

It’s a love story. How touching. So let me know what you think. Give me some anons on your opinions! Also, toss a few quid into the tip jar and I’d be eternally grateful <3 <3

#male transformation #badass transformation #gay transformation #musk #musky #feet #smelly men #thuggification #male takeover #original #badboy #smoking #drugs #stoner transformation

[siriusblackmakesmesoft]

oh my gosh i loved soft so much!!!

if i could perhaps request a remus lupin fluff, maybe with similar vibes to the sirius one you wrote ! young!remus x fem!reader

maybe after the full moon he convinces madam prince to let him leave the hospital wing early, and he goes up to y/n (ravenclaw)‘s room, ending similarly to your one before if that’s possible :) very soft !! thank you so much my love!

Remus Lupin X Ravenclaw!Reader

A/N: thank you for your request babe! You’re the first :) I’m really sorry this took so long, I’ve been in a slump :( Also thank you for requesting Remus because his birthday was this month and I cried all day :,) love him so much my sweet boy!! Also also thank you for requesting ravenclaw reader because that is all i know how to write :)  kisses to you i adore you thank you :* Also also also I Might write one similar to this and Soft about James potter just to complete the trio :) Requests are open for The Marauders right now, though I’m willing to write someone else if you want just ask :) 

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff dude call your dentist, a few physical descriptions? Glasses and longish hair and pajamas, reader being the absolute softest love of my life, sad Remus being anxious, reader is head girl bc that’s what I am when I shift so its all I know sorry, use of she/her pronouns, use of the nickname bunny bc I’m obsessed, this long speech about soulmates, food and eating mention, pretty freaking long sorry I got carried away I just love remus so much

Word count: 2801

enjoy :)

Remus was tired.

Madam Pomfrey had told him it would be a good idea to stay in the hospital wing at least one more night, to assure he get the rest he so desperately needed. Despite loving and caring about Madam Pomfrey, Remus was beginning to become claustrophobic in the tiny bed he was ridden to whilst staying there. He asked kindly, quietly, if she would be so kind as to give him the potions he should need and let him go to his own bed. She had made him promise to come to her immediately if anything were to happen, and with a less than convincing smile and a sarcastically cheery “Of course I’d come to you Pomfrey, you’re only the best,” she let him go. 

The walk to his dorm was slow. He was having no physical pain, apart from the dulled ache in his bones, yet he felt like he weighed a thousand pounds, and his bag was a thousand more. He trudged through the hall, hoping no one was in the dorm right now. It was unlikely, at almost noon on a Saturday he doubted his friends would be inside their room still. Remus loved his friends, more than he loved most things, but the thought of seeing them now was nerve wracking. He wasn’t in the right mindset to listen to them talk about a new prank plan, or a new sneaking out plan, or how lovely Lily’s eyes are, or how good their last shag was. Remus loved his friends, but he needed quiet. He needed a good book, a chocolate bar and a cozy sweater. 

The dorm was empty when he got there. He felt guilty for feeling relieved, for feeling part of the weight leave his shoulders because his friends were absent, but he also knew they would understand. They were good people, good friends who cared about him and his problems. Remus had been working on his guilt, telling himself that these people caring about him was a good thing that he shouldn’t feel bad about putting them through the things he does, that they do it because they love him and whatever issues he comes with. He hadn’t believed it yet, but he kept saying it.

He flopped face down onto his bed, dropping his bag to the floor and wincing when he remembered his book was in there. His bed felt nice compared to the cot in the hospital wing, a soft knit blanket James’ mom made him for christmas and cozy pillows she bought all the boys for their birthdays. Remus loved James’ mom, loved how she included him in their family events, loved how after Sirius moved in with the Potter’s she called Remus her son too. He had spent lots of holidays with them, sleeping in a guest room that just happened to have photos of all of Remus’ friends and posters of music he liked, a seemingly homemade bookshelf with James and Sirius’ initials carved in it. Sirius said when he first moved into the Potter’s his room was magically decorated too, and that Remus shouldn’t think too hard about how or why it happened. He knew it was his friends, brothers seemed like more of an appropriate title at this point, but he didn’t say anything for their sake. It was a sweet gesture, it made Remus cry a bit the first summer he spent there, so he let them have it.

Getting out of bed was a tough feat, but he needed a shower. He opened his trunk, grabbed his biggest sweater and favorite sweats, and headed for the shower. Remus loved showering. It was one of his favorite parts of the day. The warmth, the scent of his soap flooding the entire room, the steam dulling his senses down. It was calming, never failed to relieve his shoulders of some of what they were carrying. He relished the moments alone, relished in the sound of the water hitting the tile, the water hitting his skin, and even though he loved his friends, he relished the privacy. He didn’t get much of that anymore.

He towel dried his hair, making it messier than usual. He waited to put his sweater on, walking around in just his sweats, waiting for his skin to lose it’s pink hue from the heat of the water. He laid back onto his bed, facing the ceiling this time, and made an extensive to do list in his head. He missed 2 days of school because of the full moon, and getting caught up was something he wanted to do before laying in bed and reading all day like he planned. He also decided he should probably eat something of sustenance, other than chocolate bars and the terrible oatmeal Pomfrey served for breakfast. A trip to the kitchens was due, perhaps before studying so he could get some brain food. He also wanted to ask Professor McGonnagal about changing his prefect rounds. Telling third years to stop snogging in the halls after curfew gets tiring after a while. When he had his plan, he stood up off the bed. He put his sweater on and put his hands through his hair a few times to tame the mess. He picked his bag up, taking out some things and putting in some others. He decided he would do homework at his desk in the room, go and get some food and come right back. Nodding to himself and his plan, he put his shoes on and left the dorm. 

He had a bit more of a light step after his shower, feeling as if he washed most of his stress off. The trip to the kitchens was routine at this point. Sneaking in was muscle memory, after doing it for so long. It was a little difficult without James’ cloak, but he survived just fine. He made himself toast, spreading jam across the bread, and looked through the cabinets for some hot chocolate. He sat on the counter to eat, criss cross, right next to the sink. He thought about the elves that worked in the kitchen, how much they did. The ones who cleaned Hogwarts too, they did a lot for him, probably more than he was even aware of. It was a different kind of affection, unknown, prescribed almost. It was nice to think about. 

He stopped at the library on his way back to his room, wanting to get an extra book as a source for his herbology essay. He stopped to talk to Madam Pince, asked her about a book he had heard Sirius talk about, and went to find it and his herbology book. He found them quite quickly, Remus has come to know the library like the back of his hand. He put them both in his bag after checking out, and went to head back to his dorm, and then he heard James and some friends yelling across the hall. A guilt filled Remus again, he loved James, loved him like family, but he didn’t feel like he could handle the attention, the loud voices. As James got closer, Remus felt stuck again. The claustrophobic feeling that caused him to beg Pomfrey to let him leave the hospital wing a day early. He walked quietly, tiptoed across the hall, and when he was sure he had gone unseen he went the opposite direction of the Gryffindor dorms.

He ended up at the Ravenclaw tower door. His feet taking him here was inevitable really. He usually ended up here on a rough day. Today wasn’t too bad, he’d be the first to admit. It wasn’t great though.

“What has hands, but cannot hold anything?” Out of all the things Remus loved about the Ravenclaw tower, the Eagle spouting riddles at him when he just wants in is not one of them. He shifted his weight between his legs, picked at his nails for a minute, his bottom lip next. Terrible anxious habits that he cannot help, he looked at his watch for the time. Half past two.

“A clock.” The door opened slowly, revealing the Ravenclaw common room to him slowly. Bookshelves to the ceiling, constellations on the ceiling, soft piano music playing on a charmed record player, Remus loved it here. He usually would relish longer, stare at the stars, browse the books, try to figure out what song is playing, but he was still breathing shallow from his near death encounter with James across the hall. He wrung his hands, cracking his knuckles and twisting his fingertips as he walked up the staircase to the girls dorms. The charm for the Ravenclaw girls dorm stairs fell quickly from his lips, almost half way up by the time he completed it. He knew the way to the head girl's room by heart, down the hall straight until the last left door. He stood there for a moment, toe to wood, hand itching to knock. 

Remus suddenly felt insecure. He knew she would be happy to see him, her smile would be just as soft as he needs and she would say the perfect words, just like she always did. When he finally knocked the door opened very quickly, opening to a shy smile, and the top of a head.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Her smile was small, and her voice was barely above a whisper. She had a warmth about her, the way she looked at him, it warmed up his whole body. She opened the door wide enough for him to step in and shut it right behind him. She was wearing an old t-shirt, some band that her cousin liked and grew out of, blue pajama shorts, and socks with little rabbits all over them that Sirius bought her for christmas last year when she visited the Potter’s. Her hair was down, messy as if she were laying on it, and her glasses were crooked. She looked pretty, in a realistic way. The kind of pretty that makes Remus want to make her a cup of hot chocolate, lay in her bed, and stare at her for hours. 

“Pomfrey wrote me a note that you left early, ‘was waiting for you t’come see me.” Remus stared at her, her soft smile making his resolve break easily. This always happened, he went to her broken and she was perfect and helped him fix himself. She always knew just what to say, as if she could read his mind. He wouldn’t be surprised if she could.

“Jus’ felt bad today, ‘s all bun.” His voice was quieter than he intended. He wanted to tell her everything, the claustrophobia he had been feeling all day, the dread that swallowed him when he saw James. He wanted to tell her he was sorry for this becoming a routine, showing up to her dorm needing her glue to put him back together. Remus swallowed, bouncing on the heels of his feet, and blew air out of his cheeks. “I ate though, made some toast, and I took my potion from Pomfrey before I showered, so I don’t hurt.” He smiled softly as he said it. Full moons were hard, and Remus often neglected to take care of himself after them. Telling her he had made a point to care for himself meant everything.

“‘S a good start isn’t it? Maybe we could read a bit? Got that book you wanted me to read, thought maybe you’d want to read it with me?” There were few good things in Remus’ life. He had been dealt a poor hand from an early age. But this, his girl, smiling at him so tenderly, made it all better. This made it all worth every ounce of pain he had ever felt. 

“Can we cuddle, bunny? ‘M quite tired.” Remus pouted, looking at her with the absolute worst case of puppy dog eyes she had ever seen. She had to bite her lip to stifle her giggle, she got to love the most cutest boy in the whole world. (Y/N) grabbed Remus’ hands and pulled him to her bed. She made him sit down while she went to grab the book, and when she returned she noticed he had taken his sweater off. Remus always liked skin on skin contact, once Sirius had told him no matter how much his love language is quality time, it would always be squashed by his need for physical touch. For a while Sirius’ comment made Remus insecure, like he was clingy and annoying, overbearing. But after a long conversation (and a few tears as well) he learned that she loved him, loved holding and touching him, that it made her feel the same way it made him feel. Safe, connected, warm, and loved. 

“Y’wanna lay on me, sweet boy?” Remus broke out of his daydream, nodding his head enthusiastically. She didn’t bother hiding her giggle this time, jumping onto the bed and patting her belly. Remus wrapped his arms around her waist, shoving his nose as deep into her shirt as physically possible. Her hands wound around his shoulders, rubbing his shoulder blades and mid back. The absolute bliss Remus felt was indescribable, if this was a dream he never wanted to wake up. 

Remus sat up slightly, resting his chin on (Y/N)’s stomach, looking at her with complete adoration. He stared for a while, tracing her features with his eyes. Her hands were running through his hair now, scratching the back of his neck and softly pulling the strands on the top.  She ran her fingers across his cheeks lightly, mumbling, “‘S goin’ on in that big brain of yours, sweetness?” 

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

He could see her brain working out an answer. Her eyes squinted very slightly, her mouth parted and she ran her fingers down his jaw as she spoke.

“I don’t know. I think it’s silly to think just one person is made perfect for you. I think Sirius was made perfect for you and James, but I don’t think you lads’ll get married. If there were to be soulmates there would be a thousand different kinds. You could be soulmates with the person you marry, and your best friend. And the bloke you sit across from on the train, and the waitress at your favorite restaurant. There is too much love in the world to just limit yourself to one person,” She paused, looking at Remus, dragging her finger down the bridge of his nose and booping the tip, “But if I had to choose one person to give all my love to, one person to be my every kind of soulmate, well I just think I’d pick you, Mr. Remus John.” She ended with a pretty smile, leaning down to kiss his forehead as she started to run her hands through his hair once more. 

Remus was speechless. His eyes were teary, his mouth was opening and closing as his brain screamed at him to just say anything at all, but he couldn’t. All he could do was stare. He grabbed her wrists, holding them against his face, kissing them while he thought of exactly what to say. It was a long while until he said something, just looking into her eyes with such awe. 

“I’d pick you, too, to give all my love to. Already have, honestly.” His face split into a wide, boyish grin. Bad day forgotten, he felt nothing but love and warmth in this moment. No guilt, no insecurity, no weight. If you asked him, he’d probably say he could fly with how light he felt now. 

“Well I’d sure hope so, otherwise it would be quite awkward to have you shirtless in my bed.” Her teasing made him giggle in disbelief, how one person could be so perfect he would never understand. How that same person could love him, choose to care for him and show him love, was an anomaly to him. 

“Now kiss me so I can read to you. I need you well rested as my soulmate.” Remus had never moved so fast. Jumping level to her face, kissing all over her cheeks and lips, making exaggerated kissing noises as she squirmed under him. Her giggles and squeals loudly filled the room, floating around Remus as his hands gripped her waist. He kissed each cheek one more time, leaning his head up to look in her eyes, which were closed from when she was laughing. This was another moment, where Remus forgot all things that weren’t in this space with him. The only thing in the world was her smiling under him, and him feeling utterly delighted to exist, and a few more kisses, too.

#remus lupin fluff #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter

[dantelionwishes]

"Watanabe."

Sato spoke in a firm tone as he leaned against the wall behind him, arms crossed with difficult-to-read expression across his face. He was never a fan of lecturing his students like this, but it needed to be done every now and then. Kids were getting more and more stubborn nowadays, and he's not sure who to blame.

"We've discussed this in the past during our classes. Have you forgotten? Tell me." The teacher waited for an answer from the injured boy, his voice loud and clear with instruction.

A soft huff came from the boy. He felt like he was somehow dying and dead at the same time. Everything hurt. Everything felt terrible.

"... I was winning." He croaked. Whether that was really true or not didnt seem to matter. Maybe he fried his brain a little...

"You were winning in a losing battle with yourself, Watanabe." The teacher had raised his voice a little with urgency, "So many times. I've told you to never overuse your quirk like that." Even while wearing the mask it was clear how loud his voice was getting as he spoke, a growing exasperated appearance on his usually calm face.

"Do you understand the risks you physically take when you pull of stunts like these, Watanabe? Do you?"

....

He turned his head away from his teacher, grunting lightly. Hell, even that simple movement hurt like hell-- "Everyone's quirks b-.. Backfires somehow." Sniff. "... 's not my fault-... Not my fault mine sucks." If he had just gone a little further he could have knocked her out of the ring. Could have proceeded. Hell, he might have won the entire event!

A sigh.

He was crying. Sato took a deep breath to calm himself down and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"You're not listening to me, you can't even answer my question." His brain really was that close to getting melted, his student's basically delusional at this point. He can't think of anything else. Sato really is grateful to have a co-teacher like Lucca to act as referee. Their special class of unique students were a bit stubborn, almost comparable to the current third years when they were younger.

"I've told everyone in class to not overuse their quirk, not just you." The teacher leafed through Taishiro's medical papers, briefly going through the history of his quirk. "Do you understand where I'm going, Watanabe?" Based on the student's expression alone, he knew he wasn't listening.

Previous records of burns. Overuse. Overheating in summer. Some brief notes about malnutrition and possible neglect from a few years back-

"......"

Was he listening? Tired? Or did he fuck himself up and needed longer to think? Oh lord.. ".... Ss.." ow

".... Sato-sensei... I-- gh... You don't get it at all." sniffle. Ow existing is painful. "... I-i have to."

"You don't." His voice stayed unyielding, but kinder. "You don't have to, Watanabe."

Sato set the papers beside away, handing it to Recovery Girl who watched with a worried expression. "It's...a high school event," he approached, sitting at the foot of the bed where his student rested. "Watanabe. It's a sports festival. You are a sixteen years old teenage student who shouldn't be focusing on studies and making friends."

"...."

Sniff

".... You d.. you don't get it-" It felt like no one did "You just-- S-sometimes you just gotta deal with a little pain- UGH-" Yoshie look what you did you fucked up the kid- He squeezed his eyes(?) Closed. "T-... To get where you need to.."

"A little." He repeated, "A little pain." Sato felt a nerve pop at how Tai's words, but let it slide. Take a deep breath, you're past your prime, Osamu. It's his story, not yours. Don't make it about you. The kid needs this. He needs you right now.

The teacher pointed to his pitch-black hands, his injuries, his bandages, his current state of being. There was even a constant, soft whirring of a fan as his student recovered in bed. "You're going to get yourself killed before you can get where you need to, Taishiro. I can't let you do this."

His hands twitched. There was an attempt to ball his fists, but the pain didn't do any favours.. If he kept this up then he'd lose the functions in his hands entirely, if not the hands themselves.

"W-" An attempt to sit up. Very short lived though. "Y-you're not kicking me out of the tournament are you?!" Owie his throat. "You can't do that!"

"Stay still, Watanabe-kun!" Recovery Girl raised her voice from her seat, upset. "You shouldn't move around so much in your condition. You're going to stay here until you've stabilized." She crossed her arms. "Anything happens to you, and it's going to be on me!"

"You heard the boss," Sato turned back to his student, putting a sympathetic hand on Tai's blanketed knee. "Please, you need all the rest you can get. You need this more than anything else right now."

B- but that's not fair!!!" He shook a little. Pain? Anger? Who knows. "I was so close-- You can't do this to me, Sensei!!!" Oop tears ahoy

"Close to dying, if that was your goal." The teacher's expression was solemn, serious. This conversation was getting nowhere, and his student continued to be stubborn and in denial. He wished he could stay here for him, but he's got his job as a homeroom teacher cut out for him. He has other students to tend to, but this one...he might not be enough for Tai.

"I don't want you risking your life out there, against your own classmates. It's. A sports festival. You're supposed to be having fun out there." Sato pointed to the window, where the stadium could be seen from the clinic, "You enrolled here to become a hero, didn't you? What's the point if you don't make it to fighting villains? You won't be anywhere close if everything ends here."

"If I can't handle a sports festival how am i going to handle villains?!??" Angy.. "I-its not my fault I was matched with someone powerful!!"

"No hero gets to choose who they'll fight on the battle field. That's exactly what you're here in UA, Watanabe." Sato raked his fingers through his own locks, giving his student a meaningful glance. "To learn."

The usually tired teacher's eyes began to blaze with passion. "You're going to exactly learn how to, without endangering yourself. I've been teaching you how to, haven't I?" He didn't enroll into education for nothing, after all. "Or perhaps my classes really are that boring, hm?" Sato passed a joking glare towards Taishiro, recalling his grades and current standing.

".. I was winning" Huff "You should be happy about that... One of your students was doing good.. And now you're blocking him from winning"

He's not listening. Teenagers really are a different breed, huh?

The bed shifted from Sato's weight as he slowly moved towards the other student before gently, softly, enveloping Taishiro in the warmest hug he could give without adding pain to his injuries.

"You've done amazingly, well beyond my expectations...and now you need to rest. I'm so sorry I have to stop you here, when you're so close. I really am." Sato brings a hand behind Taishiro's head, carefully caressing his brightly coloured hair. He strokes the back of his head gently, speaking in a voice just as tender.

"I'm more than happy, Watanabe. Thank you for being a proud, strong student of Class 1-X."

He flinches a little from the pressure. Ow- Injury--

Whens the last time someone pet his hair like this? Not since he was tiny, probably. It was nice. Reminded him of snoozing on his dads lap on the way home from the park.

...

Sniff.

Sniff sniff-

The tears were already there, of course, but this just made it worse, thick black tears pouring from his eyes(?) Mann.. Even after all of that. After almost melting himself alive. After being so stubborn..

He was still just a teenager.

Hic-

He trembled, hiccuping as his lip trembled... And finally fully giving into his tears. Wailing onto his teacher. Sorry Sato your shirt is gonna get stained

It's not the first time Sato's shirt got stained with black tears. If anything, he's just happy to be there for his students in their time of need. He continues speaking what's on his mind, all the while hugging and comforting him via headpats.

"You kids are going to be the future. You guys are going to protect us when the time is right," voice low and soothing, he kept going. "So as your teacher, I can't have you risking your life as early as now. It would be my fault if something bad happened to you, it meant I didn't teach right."

He leaned back, breaking the hug. Even with the mask, Sato's smile was evident as his eyes crinkled with encouragement and pride towards Taishiro. "So with that, please continue being a good student, 'kay? Study well and become a great hero."

Hic hic hic--

Oh he's a mess. Aw man the bandages are gonna get stained too. :C

He kept shaking. Pained. Both emotionally and physically. God he was so tired-- "I-i'm trying!!"

"Trying a bit too hard, I'd say." Sato laughed softly, if not a bit cocky.

"You'll need some extra remedial classes if you want to be a good hero. And maybe some extra focus." Before he could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. Ah, right on time. Recovery Girl glanced as Sato put away his phone into his pocket, did he contact someone?

"Come right in, sir. The door's open."

Sniff...

He lifted his head. Another doctor maybe? Who would- ...

"Taishiro-!"

Oh lord-

Yoshie wastes no time. He's still in his pizza place uniform. Pizza smell. Pizza man.. He dashes over to grab and hold his son, of course causing the kid a little more pain but- Hey he could deal. Proabbly-

"D- Dad?!"

"Tai- Taishiro i saw everything--" He grabbed his son by the shoulders, face full of concern.

"How could you do that to yourself?! Do you know how dangerous that was?!?!"

"Dad...-"

"No! You can't-- Son. You can't keep doing this!!"

"I was winni-" "YOU WERE KILLING YOURSELF, TAI."

...

Oh

Tai is pulled in for a tight hug again, his father tearing up as he holds his son protectively, tai looking stunned for a moment.

"You can't do that-- Why would--" A sniff. From Yoshie this time. "..You're my only son, Tai! You can't do that to yourself!"

The father turned his head a little, looking at the teacher. ".. I-is it possible for me to take him home? Watch over his recovery?"

Sato hummed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well...it's a miracle the match ended before things for irreversible. It's another miracle that we've got such an amazing nurse on our side, too." He glances over to Recovery Girl for an opinion. "What do you say, Ma'am?"

"He's still a bit unstable, so we need to watch over him a bit more. He did too much work this festival, so..." The school nurse herself huffs, always with the tendency to scold those she heals up. "Learn to control yourself, young man! You're still a teenager, don't risk yourself at this age!" She raises her cane, gesturing to all the other students in the ward. "And that goes for all of you, too! Got that?!" A collective groan from the injured students follows, sounding like a "yes, ma'am."

The teacher decided to continue for her, "He should be okay to bring home by tomorrow." He placed a hand on Yoshie's shoulder, kind but firm. "Don't worry Watanabe-san, your son is in good hands."

"...."

A small nod, before he turns back to his son, cupping the students face.

"Tai.. I know it's not been easy. I know-.. I know i've not been the best father to you-" Two idiots be crying "... But this-..You can't do this. Not for my sake.." Looks like he saw the rin match. oop. "You have to do things for yourself. Make friends! ignore your work-- Hell, get another piercing- Just.. Don't give up your youth for me, Tai."

"D..."

All of this was for him.. All of this was.. All... "

... D-daaad-!!"And back to wailing he goes, his father chuckling a little through his own tears, holding him close. and letting his son cry it out. There was a lot of healing to be done, but at least this time he'd fight like hell to be around to help with it.

Sato watched as the two cried in each others arms, relieved that things turned out pretty well in the end. He excused himself from the clinic, waved goodbye to the nurse, father, and patient.

Now, then...

As soon as he closed the infirmary door behind him, Hikari, the redheaded girl from the other class was clutching her cellphone anxiously as she stuttered to find her voice. He wasn't well acquainted with her, but knew she did rather well in his class knowing that she received some sort of prior training from her pro hero relatives with that unfortunate quirk of hers. And she's the last of Class 1-Y standing...if anything, he's a bit worried considering Lucca's most anxious student is going to fight his scariest, angriest student.

"It's okay. He's doing well." He craned his neck as he looked up at the towering high schooler, "It's not your fault."

Taishiro didn't know Hikari's immunity to heat and fire. Trying to pull off a stunt like burning himself up in the inside to try and fry her only backfired completely. She couldn't do anything either, doing her damnedest to keep herself in the stage even if he kept rewounding time. Lucca must have noticed her student's distress in trying to get close to Taishiro to stop him. I really have to treat her to drinks sometime, it's tough being a teacher.

"S.....S-Sensei...."

A broken whimper stopped his trail of thought.

"Ah, sorry. You want me to escort you back to the stadium? Don't worry, I know Fuwa is scary and all, but--"

"........it's not th-that...."

Sato raised a brow and observed her movements. She's always trembling, but...she's shaking pretty badly. The student looks like she just finished crying, puffy eyes, nose and all. She clutched her phone close to her body before opening her mouth again. Hikari recalled the conversation she had on the phone and mustered up all the courage she had.

"I...I need to go home."

#bnha oc comeback #hikari kamino #Osamu Sato sensei #bnha oc #drabble #others ocs