#i black out when i see anything related to knuckles

[sourholland]

based off of taylor swift’s song style

a/n → we are so back. here’s the official playlist for style 🩵

summary → he’s the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of lake erie—but does he have the heart to match it? you’re the bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. it doesn’t take much to catch the eye of joe burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

warnings → strong language, mentions of sex

word count → 3.3k

reblog and leave some comments if you enjoy!!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 5

After you and Joe had come close to being caught in his locker room, both of you decided it was best to make a swift exit plan that let you both make it to the parking lot unscathed and unsuspecting. You departed first, quickly turning the corner and leaving the hallway with your bag slung over your shoulder. Joe had in fact kept your panties, taunting you for a minute and motioning for you to attempt to grab them from him. Spooked by the disturbance, you only told him that he now owes you two pairs.

Joe left a few minutes after you, taking a completely different hallway out of the facility and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He asked to see you before you’d split, so the fact that he knew he was going to follow you back to your apartment had seemingly put a bit of pep in his step. You watched him cross the large parking lot, waving at you and smiling in a way that left you shaking your head and laughing. He must have changed clothes before he walked out, adorning a pair of shorts and a black jacket overtop his white hoodie.

The drive was quiet, save for the few times Joe would purposefully begin to ride the ass of your car or honk like you had done something wrong. Funny, you bit back some amusement as you let the horn blare right back at him. He was unlike any guy you had been with in that aspect, his humor was genuine and never had anything to do with making you feel bad about yourself or to poke fun. His jokes never cut deep, which was rare in your few relationships thus far.

Joe parked beside you in your unit’s garage. His Porsche most definitely stood out amongst the line of cars, sleek and spotless as if he had just taken it through the car wash. Everything about him was so clean and prim and proper, it intimidated you now more than ever. A sudden feeling of insecurity washed over you, wondering if he was silently judging you and your life. You couldn’t help gazing down at the steering wheel, thinking endlessly about how much Joe really possessed in athleticism, riches, and looks compared to your ex-boyfriends.

Suddenly his knuckle wrapped against your window, “You got mac ‘n’ cheese up there? Tell me that doesn’t sound so good right now.”

You couldn’t help laughing at him, his so-casual words through the window that you rolled down. He leaned into your car, arms folded so his chin rested on them as he perched and tilted his head to the side. He looked inside of your car now, having never seen it. His legs were so long, you noted once again as you breathed another chuckle at his stature. He merely shook his head, waiting for a response about the food.

“I think I have the little Kraft cups. I might have some of the normal boxes, it might be Velvetta, though,” you watched as he gave you an eyeroll.

“You think one of those cups is gonna sustain me? I’m insulted,” he placed a hand on his heart and finally pulled his head out of the car. He opened the car door for you, motioning for you to step out with an outstretched hand for your bag. “I was practically inhaling those things at eight. You can’t seriously be full off one.”

“Excuse me, Joe. Not all of us are..” you spoke with booming amusement and sarcasm, prepared to give a dramatic reenactment as you approached the elevator. “The one, the only Joe Burrow! Heartthrob NFL quarterback, generous philanthropist, sexiest–”

“Ah okay, I see. Someone’s got jokes,” he interrupted, smiling ear to ear. “Please, don’t stop on my accord. What about me is so sexy?”

As you crossed the threshold and began upward in the elevator, you gave him a teasing smirk and noticed just how pink his cheeks had gotten at your comments. He was still holding your bag, bouncing up and down on his heels and occasionally glancing sidelong at you while you went up. The ride was a comfortable silence, simply peering at each other when the other was not looking in a sort of high school fashion.

Joe discarded his coat as he entered your freshly unlocked apartment, murmuring something about how he was sweating. You watched him curiously, tidying up and discarding some of the random things you and the girls had strewn around the apartment. He hadn’t ever been inside, he’d only picked you up when you went out for drinks. He definitely had no intention of masking his curiosity, he walked along the walls of your living room and noted each photo and piece of decor. He picked up a frame on the TV stand, it was a moment captured on film from your study abroad trip in Australia. His eyes scanned the photograph where you and Sydney were perched on pink beach towels, smiling drunkenly and wearing floppy hats for shade.

“What’s your life like?” He asked you, not a hint of hesitation in his question. “I know you’re a cheerleader, I know you’re going to school to become a teacher. What about all the other stuff, though?”

You paused and hummed, “I feel like my life might bore in comparison to yours.”  

“I highly doubt that, but tell me anyway.”

“I grew up in a pretty rural area in Massachusetts. I have an older brother, his name is Jack. My parents have been divorced for a few years, but they stuck it out until I moved out. For better or for worse,” you told him without maintaining much eye contact. “I’m really not trying to dump all of my childhood trauma on you, I promise.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about? I asked,” Joe said, reassuring you and noting how you fiddled with the strings of the knit throw blanket. “I want to know, I really do.”

His expression was genuine, his eyes serious and fixated solely on you. He had discarded his car keys and phone on a nearby countertop, giving you his full attention as you inhaled deeper and thought seriously about what you wished to tell him. He felt unreal, like something you had dreamed up and manifested into your living room. A part of you thought you should pinch yourself and look again, sure that he would have disappeared into thin air. No, you forced yourself out of the thought and made yourself see that he was just as real and tangible as you are. 

“We grew up pretty poor, for a while we were a one income household living off food stamps and just getting by. It was rough, those years especially, but we managed and eventually my mom and dad were able to save. They got into real estate later on and then opened a store, I’m grateful for all of it. I worked hard in school to help with scholarships and stuff so they wouldn’t be totally responsible for putting me through college,” the words flowed without much thought and he nodded, listening intently. “They weren’t happy. I knew it long before anyone mentioned divorce, but I was still pretty wrecked. I’m grateful, though. They gave me a great work ethic, you know just watching them build a better life for our family. I wouldn’t even live here without their help.”

“I can tell you’re a hard worker,” he was assessing you in your entirety. “Are you close with them? Your family, I mean.”

You stilled for a moment, thinking intently about the question. Joe was sitting across from you, elbows braced on his knees as he leaned into the conversation. His gaze was soft, gentle even. He wasn’t looking at you with pity, however. His expression was more of a mixture of understanding and concentration, like he was afraid to say the wrong thing.

“Not so much, no,” you answered. “But the love is still there. I just have a hard time expressing it to my family, I guess. If that makes any sense at all. With my friends, it always just comes so much easier. I’ve just always felt outside myself around my family, like they know nothing about me.”

“How does that make you feel?” 

“It’s just kind of how it's always been, I guess.”

Joe listened to you for ten more minutes, not protesting when you rose from the loveseat and seemed to want to change the subject to something more positive. Following you into the kitchen, he began to look through the cupboards for something to make. It didn’t take him long before finding the Kraft cups, turning around and showing you with an eye roll. He began rattling off the nutrition label, making you raise your phone to him with a hand over your mouth as you captured a short clip of his fully serious assessment.

He continued to sift through the materials of your kitchen, finding an actual box of mac ‘n’ cheese and beginning to look for your pots and pans. You silently extended a hand, letting him take the pot from you and start cooking. You walked over to the fridge, glancing around your options for drinks.

“So I have Celsius, milk, Titos, Capri suns, and water,” you told him, cringing internally at the selection. 

“What flavor Capri Sun?” He asked, stirring the food in front of him.

“Looks like… strawberry kiwi.”

“Yeah, I’ll take one of those,” he looked over his shoulder at you. 

You both ate in front of the living room television, watching The Hunger Games underneath the throw blanket you had extended to him as soon as you sat down. He took it graciously, eating much faster and going back for a second helping before you’d finished even half of your bowl. You snickered softly, wondering the daily caloric intake of an NFL player and how much Joe had to eat to maintain his figure. 

Once you both finished eating, he followed you into your bathroom with his bag. He took his toothpaste and toothbrush out, the set you assumed was only for practice and games. You both stood in front of the mirror, brushing silently until Joe would make a face in the mirror or you would go to rinse your brush and he would slap your ass. He took the lid of the mouthwash you had filled up, knocking it back just as you had. He stifled a laugh while you swished, pulling his phone out and taking a picture of you with your hands on your hips, eyes narrowed at him and mouth full of mouthwash.

Joe’s cold hand slid onto your upper thigh as you settled back into the couch. He pinched softly and you whacked his arm slightly harder, causing both of you to laugh as he threw his hands up in playful defense. You let him lean in as he mouthed the word ‘truce’, only to attack your middle and put you with your back on the couch. He hovered above you, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck and lips.

“Should I go?” Joe asked, looking down at his phone and realizing how late it is. 

“Do you want to go?” You asked him in one breath. 

The only light illuminating his face was from the movie playing in the background. Joe’s pupils were blown, his hair falling forward as he was still above you. His body pressed a fraction of his weight on you, both of your pulses pounding. He let himself think about the question, humming lowly and taking in the visual before him once again.

“I never want to go,” he said, half-joking with a smirk. “You tell me. I have to be at the facility to watch film at eight, I’ll be gone before you wake up. It’ll be like I was never here. ”

Is that what he wants? The question wracked your brain as you sat contemplating how casual this was for him. His flattery sometimes felt so real, like more than foreplay or meaningless flirting. There was always the undertone of what was wrong with you two being tangled up in the same blanket, though. Joe couldn’t bring you on a real date, you would never be able to show anyone the video from the kitchen–why shouldn’t this be casual to him? He likes you, perhaps. But how can you expect him to want to tiptoe around each other’s jobs?

“Okay, yeah,” the words came out more breathy than you intended. “Sounds good to me.”

Joe studied your dimly lit face, “Everything alright?” 

You told yourself not to be that same girl you were at the bar, the one you could only assume he viewed as a psychotic bitch. A part of you was willing yourself to shove down some of those strong feelings for him, giving him a soft smile and nodding. He relaxed a bit, letting you turn in his arms and watch the movie with your back to his chest.

It was only about ten minutes before you heard the sounds of his soft snores, one arm tucked underneath his head and the other firm around your chest. His breathing was deep and steady, occasionally pulling you into him further. After a few minutes, you grabbed your phone off of the coffee table and turned your camera front-facing, making sure the flash was off and snapping a picture to send to your group chat with the girls.

Sydney: Oh. My. GOD.

Sydney: I’m actually throwing up rn what the fuck 

Sydney: LOOK HOW BIG HIS HAND IS

Lena: I’m freaking the fuck out omg

Lena: I’m so jealous

Lena: He’s so 

Sydney: He’s fine as fuck

Y/N: IKR

Y/N: I think I’m obsessed 

Sydney: Girl wbk that

Sydney: Be fucking for real

Y/N: I simply do not think I will be making it to class on Monday

Lena: That’s three days away

Y/N: Ugh Ik

Y/N: Last first day of classes! 

Y/N: I’ll call you guys tomorrow and debrief

Both of them hearted the message, sending their goodnight texts and equally dirty messages about you and Joe sleeping together. You flipped the TV off and let yourself lean into his arms a bit further, inhaling his scent of high end cologne and mint. He held onto you protectively, caging you into his embrace and brushing his nose against your hair. You slowly let 

yourself drift to the sound of his breaths.

⋆------------⋆

Joe woke up around six, he felt you pressing into him and against him first. His neck was stiff, wishing he’d have made it to your bed last night. He couldn’t recall falling asleep, assuming he had knocked out while you both watched the movie. He inhaled the scent of your shampoo, closing his eyes for a few moments and allowing himself to linger between that sweet spot of sleep and consciousness.

He savored the few moments of domesticity, wondering what it would be like to wake up in bed next to the other. Everything about you was so intoxicating, he had never been much of a risk taker before. He would have never risked bringing you into the locker room if he was in a completely sane state of mind. He thought of you with such desperation and yearning that he simply couldn’t have cared less about what anyone had to say about it.

Joe knew this made him selfish, made him irresponsible, and that was the worst part. He knew and he didn’t give a shit, he couldn’t stay away from you. Not that he had really tried, but he also lacked the desire to. Being around you was bad for him, Joe thought as he watched you sleep soundlessly beside him. You cause him to completely lose control of who he is and yet he cannot seem to stay away. 

Slipping out from behind you without waking you was difficult, but he managed to get out over the back of the couch and readjust the blanket to cover you. Joe walked around, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on whilst also cleaning up a bit and helping with the dishes he helped dirty. He came up with the idea to leave a note once he was left looking around your kitchen, shaking off his damp hands and pulling his sleeves back down. He found a notepad and pen easily, but stared blankly at the sheet. Is leaving a note too much? He had a hard time reading your attitude towards certain things, he had tried to get you to stay for breakfast and you flat out refused him. Perhaps it was better to adhere to what was agreed on, it would be like he was never there.

After a few seconds of contemplation, Joe sighed and set the pen down. He left quietly after brushing a hand over your head once more, shutting the door softly behind him so as not to wake you up. 

⋆------------⋆

When you rolled over to grab your phone, Joe was already long gone and his spot beside you had now gone cold. Yawning, you sat up and padded to the bathroom to pee and contemplate everything that had gone on during the previous night. At first glance, you assumed Joe had tidied up the strewn pillows on the living room floor and moved your phone to the coffee table. 

Once you made it into the kitchen, you realized he had washed the dishes that had been used and pulled out a sheet of paper. There was nothing written on it, pen sitting idly by as if he planned to write something for you to wake up to. Casual, you reminded yourself. Both of you had agreed on casual. 

The run you went on this morning was particularly long, headphones blaring as you pushed yourself further and further away from your complex. Thoughts of cheerleading and Joe weighed on your mind heavily, his head between your thighs the night before most certainly did not make it any easier for you to focus on controlling your breathing. Casual felt like a punishment, especially in this case. He couldn’t have felt a fraction of how you did, your thoughts occupied constantly with the sight of his unruly hair and large hands on your body. He was making you crazy, the way he touched you was genuinely driving you into insanity. Much less the fact that you risked your spot on the team each time you answered at his beck and call. 

Your phone began to ring, Lena’s caller ID popping up. You answered, sweat coating you like a layer of oil.

“Don’t freak out.”

“Freak out?” I heaved, taking a long sip of water. “Why would I freak out?”

“There’s a picture of you and Joe on Twitter. You can’t see your face at all and you’re at a red light, all you can see is him and some of your hair,” she informed you, cautiously attempting to keep your anxiety at bay. “It’s days old, but it popped up on my timeline just now and it has a few thousand likes.”

She sent you a screenshot, fingers shaking as you opened up your texts and tapped on the picture. It was a photo from the first night you’d gone to get food, a sneaky snapshot at a redlight when your window was half down. Thankfully, only your shoulders and the back of your head was visible under the light that made the color of your hair hard to detect. Joe was looking over at you, smiling with one hand occupied by the half-gone milkshake. 

Feeling like the wind was knocked out of you, you silently copied the image and sent it to Joe. 

“I feel like I should end things with him officially,” was all you said to Lena. “He wants casual and I’m not sure this is worth casual.”

lmk to be added to the taglist!

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#joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow angst #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x yn #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x oc #joe burrow fic #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow fluff

[pacdevil]

You've been Knuckles'd! :D

Respond to this with your favorite image of Knuckles and then go on anon and send this to five amazing and incredibly wonderful people!!!

KNUX KNUX KNUX KNUX KNUX KNUX-

#i black out when i see anything related to knuckles #i love him that much #193 #193.2 #912 #912.anonask

[wutheringcaterpillar]

A Lesson Learnt

Summary: After dressing provocatively to the golden globes much to Cillian’s surprise. He becomes immensely irritated with how you’re acting, flirting with other men and having no public decency, leaving him no other choice than to put you in your place.

Warnings: daddy!kink, degradation, jealousy, Cillian is single in this with no kids, you’re his adopted daughter, brat!reader, smut a tremendous amount of smut, dumbification, ass slapping, age gap (reader is twenty one, cillian is 48)

sidenote- i may have gotten a bit carried away but seriously it’s a lot of smut. I am not an Yvonne hating person and respect his family. This is purely fiction and has no relation to Cillian’s real life. Don’t like the warnings, don’t read this.

There you were, standing there in a black skin tight dress that hugged your sides quite firmly, complimenting your hips. Your father stood there hand at his hip completely astounded, apalled that you would wear such a revealing outfit to such a prestigious event, if he were to take a guess you were taking a note from the book of Kylie Jenner.

Meeting his gaze, his eyes protruded dominance, his once baby blues eyes turning into a devilish shade of the cavernous ocean as he watched you walk down the stairs toward him.

Diamonds covered the top of your dress, curving elegantly over your revealing cleavage, just hardly holding them in place. 

Greeting the security guard who attempted to look anywhere but you, Cillian leaned up from the wall, holding out his hand for you to take like the gentleman that he always was.

“What the fuck are yuh wearing? This is an award show not a fucking playboy mansion.” You rolled your eyes and walked with him hand in hand to your designated table.

During the evening waiting on nominees and winners, he couldn’t help but notice the glances and innapropriate exchanges you had been making with Leonardo DiCaprio, it fueld his anger even more, knowing you were in this man’s age range of women.

Taking a cherry off of your desert, you popped it in your mouth, seductively tying the stem in a knot never breaking eye contact with Leo, whom was focused on your cherry red lips, imagining what they’d feel like wrapped around his cock.

Cillian had enough of this, he knew what you were up to, a not so poor attempt at getting under his skin. Clenching his jaw, he balled his fists under the table, when he locked eyes with Leo the man looked away, still smirking at the idea of all the positions he could have you in tonight.

Attempting to keep his composure, you felt his hand latch onto your thigh harshly, his knuckles turning white. You held back a yelp from the sudden pain, just barely keeping your knee from hitting the table. Turning to him with a playful grin, you raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong daddy? Can’t a girl have some fun?” He leaned ever so close, his lips just barely touching your ear, whispering in a harsh tone for nobody to hear.

“This is a televised show, I don’t need you flaunting yourself and acting like a whore for everyone to see. Cut the shit before I do for ya” Someone was feisty, just as you had planned. 

Cillian believed the problem to be your lack in parents growing up, no discipline whatsoever, and he was guilty for giving you anything you ever asked for, now he was reaping the consequences.

“And the winner is Cillian Murphy!” As he took the stage and began giving his speech, his tongue lapped over his teeth in irritation when he noticed instead of listening to him, you were biting down on your bottom plump lip, before sucking the chocolate syrup of your dessert off of your finger, never once breaking eye contact with Leo.

He stayed composed finishing his speech, trying to not even look at you and your slutty shenanigans.

He didn’t talk to you the rest of the night until you were back at the hotel.

“What da fuck was dat eh? Did you even care about how long I waited for this moment or were you too lovestruck by a man nearly three times your age. You hurt me tonight Y/N.” Kicking off your heels, you approached him like a lion approaches its prey but in a teasing way, a clear note of sarcasm in your voice.

“Sounds to me like daddy’s jealous.” You batted your eyelashes innocently at him, pouting, mocking him with his emotions.

“Enough!” The back of his hand intertwined with the strands of your hair instantly, you let out a yelp, lips quivering in pain.

“You want to act like a whore, I’ll treat ya like a fuckin whore.” He bent you over the dresser aggressively, your chest slamming against the wooden surface nearly taking the breath out of you.

His chest heaved rapidly, adrenaline rushing through his blood when he lifted your dress, seeing the black laced thong that was barely even covering your asshole.

Scoffing, he moved the thin, soaked fabric to the side, only to reveal your little hole dripping, he could swear he could see a small heartbeat atop your clit.

“Well, well would you look at that?” His hand slapped your folds, your slick painting your thighs from how wet you were. You squirmed underneath him in a desperate attempt to crawl out from underneath his arm.

A stinging pain shot up your back when his hand collided with the fragile skin of your ass.

“Daddy!” Cillian shook his head, pulling your hair back, his hand wrapping around your throat in a deathly grip.

“Don’t you daddy me. Do I sound like I’m fucking around Y/N?” His fingers slid into your dripping core effortlessly. Your mouth dropped open from the sudden intrusion, the feeling of his thick fingers filling you causing you to moan desperately, needing more.

His fingertips curled up inside of you, making you gasp in pleasure. Your juices coated him instantly, it was pathetic to him how needy and impatient you were. “Be. Patient? Understand?” You moaned a yes, pushing yourself back against his fingers, grinding your pussy down the entirety of his lengthy fingers. He rolled his eyes in annoyance with you getting far too much enjoyment out of this. When he removed his fingers you whined, and he wasn’t having it, sending another sharp slap to your ass, stoping your crying immediately.

Unbuckling his pants with his other hand, his thick length slapped against your wetness, resting in-between your folds, sliding it up and down agonizingly slow. You released a whine, the anticipation getting the best of you.

“Please. The worst punishment you ever gave me was taking my phone away for a weekend in high school. You’re not going to- Ah!” He plunged his cock full throttle into your tight walls, causing your body to tense from the pain.

Flipping you over, his hands held your wrists at both sides of your head, his nails digging into your skin rather violently, surely to leave marks.

“What’s da matter? Daddy’s cock making yuh too dumb to speak?” At this point your boobs had fallen out of your dress, like Cillian expected them too.

Your round globe-like nipples hardening from how turned on you were in that very moment.

“Pl-please daddy I-“ Grabbing his tie, he shoved it in your mouth, shutting you up.

“Do yuh want the fuckin neighbors to here? Are yuh going to bed a good girl for once in yer life?” You nodded up at him with pleading eyes. 

His hands released your wrists, grazing over your thighs, holding them tightly as he fucked you mercilessly. The sight of your tits bouncing up and down consumed him. He couldn’t resist from latching his lips around them, biting down on one of them, making you release a desperate, muffled moan.

He’s pumping in and out of you at vigorous rate as your hands glided to the sides of the dresser, holding onto them for dear life.

Sweat began to form on Cillian’s pale skin, as he watched his cock disappear in your luxurious, dripping hole. The sight sending him into overdrive.

Ripping the tie out of your mouth, he lifted you up, slamming you up against the wall. 

“Lucky I’m even fucking you with whadda fuckin brat you’ve been. That all it takes is my cock for you to behave?” Your hands searched every inch of his back, pushing his jacket off, undoing the buttons frantically.

You pressed your boobs up against his chest as he drilled into you, the feeling of being so full, so completely fucked out taking over you.

The sweat causing your mascara to run down your cheeks in a beautiful, fucked out mess.

The sight of you so needy for him, so quickly submissive to his every demand turned him on immensely. He watched you with deep intent, paying close attention to every single facial expression with such precision.

He could tell you were close from the way your thighs were twitching around his waist.

Turning you around to face the mirror while his back was toward it, he wanted you to see how desperate you looked, how well you were taking his cock and how he was capable of taking complete control of you.

“Go on sweetheart, do what you do best and cum on my cock. Go on with da slut you are. My good little slut.” The way he spoke with such dialect, his voice as smooth was the wind in a warm summer day had you clenching around his length hard. Moaning and groaning loud enough for the whole hotel to hear.

“Daddy, daddy I- I’m gonna-“

“Cum on my cock, darling. Show daddy how well he treats his princess.”

Your body convulsed as you crumbled in his arms, losing yourself, fully releasing your hot slick all over his magnificent cock.

Cillian kept going, holding you up with a single hand while the other moved your chin up, forcing you to look at him with your fucked out eyes that were just rolling back down from the back of your head.

“Should I come in you? I’m not sure if you deserve it? You were such a bad girl tonight?” You nodded frantically, still hardly able to form words, feeling like you could potentially pass out from the over stimulation of his cock still hitting that sweet spot.

“Pl-please. I’ll be good. No- no more flirting.” His eyebrows raised, his lips curving into a smile, satisfied with your response before he released himself, painting your insides with his seed as his moans filled the room.

When he let you down, you would’ve fell to the ground if it weren’t for his arms catching you, helping you up onto the bed, tucking you in gently.

“Have you been taking your pill?” He asked, caressing  the side of your face with such care.

You nodded sleepily, making him smile softly at the sight of his sweet little girl. You may have drove him crazy at times, but with a little guidance he knew you’d straighten out. Seeing his cum drip out of you, he pushed it back in, making you moan tiredly.

“I have to go and do the closing photos. I’ll be back soon.” He kissed you on the forehead, already sound asleep like the angel you were.

When he took the photos, he didn’t seem to notice how his collar was disheveled, not neat like it was during his speech, but he hadn’t cared.

When his assistant had pointed it out and offered to fix it, he waved her off kindly, repeating the fact he did not care, he just wanted tonight and this award show event to be over.

It was a small reminder to him of how much you needed him in every, aching way.

#Cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #Reader insert #Cillian murphy imagine #ranaewrites

[daenysx]

Hi love!! I hope you’re having a wonderful day, could i possibly request a sirius x fem reader where reader just had an unbelievably long day at work (im projecting uni is kicking my behind) and she comes home so worn out and extra clingy cause she needs extra love and attention from sirius and of course our pretty boy is more than happy to oblige? thank you <333

this is so relatable, thank you for requesting angel, i hope you enjoy!

sirius black x fem!reader, fluff

sirius is trying to watch a film while he waits for you at home.

well, he's trying but he's not very good at focusing on the plot today. he keeps thinking of your voice, your sad and tired tone, your fake words to convince him that you're doing okay and he doesn't need to come get you from work. he keeps staring at the screen of his laptop just to make minutes go faster, his eyes are empty when his mind is full of you.

the sound of your keys unlocking the door makes him jumpy a little, he leaves the laptop on the couch to see you. your bag hangs from your shoulder, your eyes look puffy from what he can see, you don't look steady enough to move one more step. sirius frowns but he's quick to take your bag as you kick your shoes.

"welcome back, lovely." he says, quietly. you give him a worn out smile, sirius helps you with your jacket before he takes you in his arms. your hold isn't nearly as strong as his but you still hug him. he realizes you are almost ready to melt into his arms but you need a little time to do that. he brushes a quick kiss on your hair before he can see your face better.

his warm fingers push your hair back. "are you okay?"

you nod, giving him another smile. "better."

sirius supports you gently to go to the bedroom. you sit on bed as he brings you some comfy clothes. the way your eyes seem so blurry breaks his heart, he wants your spark back. he kneels in front of you and holds your hands, a kiss for each knuckle.

"can i help you change?"

you squeeze his hands. "i want to take a shower first, i think. i feel so messy like this."

he nods, stands up from his spot. "do you want me to come with you?" normally he'd ask the question teasingly, he'd smirk until you go mad but this time he's being cautious.

you nod, shyly. "but i don't think i can stay on my feet for too long."

"i'll hold you." he says. "i'll wash your hair and rub your back a bit under hot water, yeah? how does it sound, gorgeous?"

you smile and pull his face towards yourself with the last piece of strength you have. you kiss him for how sweet he's being, he wants to kiss you longer but you don't feel good enough and he knows.

sirius practically carries you to the shower, he helps you out of your clothes to get you under the hot water. he gets in with you, you lean into his chest as he holds you from your waist, his fingers are drawing circles on your skin. you make a sound that melts his heart, your muscles finally get to relax. sirius holds the back of your head to press your face on his neck. you kiss him and close your eyes, the water takes away all the stress you have from your tough day.

you think you'll fall asleep on your feet, leaning against sirius. he washes your hair and his long fingers rubbing your scalp feels perfect. he rinses the shampoo slowly, massages your shoulders with the rest of the bubbles. he cups your cheeks to see your eyes, finds them unfocused and sleepy. "come on, you lovely thing. you have to wait until we go to bed to sleep, yeah? i'll finish in a minute."

you hum, your head falls on his shoulder as you hold onto him like a koala. "i love you so much."

sirius's laugh echoes in the bathroom. "i know, baby." he says. "i love you, too. just keep your eyes open for me."

you nod, trying to do as he says. he finishes quickly just like he promises and you are out of the shower. you don't even have to move a muscle, sirius does everything for you. he doesn't say anything until he gets you nice and comfy, you feel like your heart will explode out of the amount of love you have for him.

you feel a lot better after a warm shower, you decide, the minutes spent under water clean you up in every way. you can feel the thoughts in your brain still exhaust you, but you can't have everything you want at the same time. for now, being physically clean helps a lot.

you change into the clothes sirius picked for you, one of his t-shirts and one of your little shorts. water drips from your hair and you try to use the towel to keep it a little dry. you sigh when your muscles stretch in a comforting but disturbing way.

sirius comes next to you after he finishes getting dressed himself, he stays behind as he takes the towel from your hands. he gently gathers all your hair in his hand and kisses your neck lovingly. you close your eyes, his lips feel like heaven on your skin. tilting your head back, you lean into him until he gives your another kiss.

"my poor baby." he whispers. you hum, needy for every touch. "let's brush your hair."

he does as he says, his fingers move to untangle your hair. he uses the comb after applying some oil you like, and you feel good enough to turn around when he finishes. he leaves the comb on your nightstand, his arms holding you immediately. you bury your face to his neck, the mixed smell of your shampoo and his cologne fill your senses.

"do you wanna go to bed?" he asks. "or maybe the couch?"

"the bed please." you say. he is quick to lift the covers to help you lay in bed. you can cry when you feel soft mattress under your tired body, a sound leaves your lips when you try to get comfortable.

"are you hungry, sweetheart?" sirius asks.

you shake your head. "i don't feel like eating, siri."

sirius hums, he knows he shouldn't force you. he plans a full breakfast for the morning quickly in his mind. "what about some tea, baby? the one you like that smells like berries?"

you think this option for a second, but even though the thought of a hot cup of tea sounds perfect, you don't feel good enough to sit and drink something. you extend a hand to him, he sits next to you on bed, careful eyes watching your every expression.

"maybe later." you say, a smile forming on your lips to convince him you're okay. "won't you come closer?"

sirius places himself gently in bed, right next to you. he is holding you instantly and you wrap yourself around him. his one hand starts rub your shoulder blades, and the other one goes to your hair. he kisses your head, and once more until he loses a breath.

there are voices in your head, they've been there the entire day. you were begging for some silence at some point when you called sirius but controlling your mind is not so easy. you just bury yourself closer to him like you're hiding from the world and he keeps you there. a slow teardrop falls on his neck from your eyes, your lips form a soft pout.

then the voices stop.

because now there's him talking and only him. his beautiful voice reaches your ears and you calm down easily. "it's okay." he says, his fingers are kind in your hair. "my baby's just tired, but you'll feel better. we'll stay in bed until you feel like yourself again, okay?"

you nod automatically, your lips pressed on his neck but not quite kissing. he kisses you instead, covers your forehead with fond brushes of his lips. "let's try to get some sleep, sweetheart." his voice is low. "close your eyes, pretty girl."

"sirius?"

"hmm?"

"thank you." you whisper before breathing him in and closing your eyes for sleep.

"you are so lovely, do you know that?" he blinks, tightens his arms around you. "no need for that, i'm just trying to take care of my girl."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius x reader #sirius x you #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #sirius black fic #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders fic #marauders fluff

[sapphenaa]

winter's frost | azriel x fem!reader

Summary: As Kallias' sister, you're expected to help maintain good relations with allied courts. Your newest ally leads you to the Starfall celebration, and it ends up changing your life much more drastically than you expected.

warnings: cursing

part two

It wasn’t your choice to go to the Starfall celebration in the Night Court. No, with your brother’s newfound alliance, you were required to attend the foolish party when you would rather be curled up in your room at the Winter Court, preferably with a good book and a steaming cup of tea.

Involuntarily, you rolled your eyes as you made your way out of your room, the gossamer of your steel blue gown whipping around your feet. You hated to admit it, but Viviane did a wonderful job at hunting down this dress. It was plated with silver metal around your bodice, the bejeweled collar connected by interwoven chains. It was complete with a smattering of sapphires adorning it, twinkling out at the top of the mostly sheer skirt. A warrior’s dress, beautiful but deadly, the plating similar to the armour you so often wore.

As you made your way down the stairs, you heard Viviane gasp in excitement whilst you fiddled with the quartz crown that adorned your head. “You look magnificent!” Viviane breathed out, a wide smile on her face. Her hand reached out to adjust the stray curls framing your face before stepping back to get another look at you. You smiled tightly at her before flicking your gaze to your brother.

“How long do we plan on staying there?” Kallias’ icy eyes were made of stone, his lips set in a harsh line.

“However long I deem is necessary to show Rhysand that he has our support.” You huffed out a breath at his response, your hair swaying at the movement.

“Then lets get this over with,” you quipped as you placed your hand on his arm. The three of you were swiftly encased in black smoke as Kallias winnowed your group in front of the House of Wind. You couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips as you caught sight of the dazzling house, more akin to a castle than anything. However, you weren’t given more than a couple seconds to admire it as your brother and his mate made their way to the front doors. You followed suit rather languidly, coming to a stop in front of the marble doors. Kallias raised his hand to knock, but the doors flew open before his knuckles could even touch the doorframe.

“Kallias, I’m glad you could make it.” A dazzling smile flashed and you knew immediately that the raven-haired man at the door was the High Lord of the Night Court. “Viviane, pleasure to see you again. You’re looking lovely as always,” he spoke as his eyes flicked over to hers before landing on you. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rhys, and you are?”

You refused a curtsey, instead bowing your head slightly as you chimed out your name and rank. He smiled again before waving the three of you in, his magic swelling, nearly causing a tremble in your hands at the intensity of it. “Well, I won’t let you idle outside in the cold any longer. We have wine and an assortment of food waiting for you.” 

Once again you followed, keeping to the back in hopes that conversation would not be struck with you. However, as always, your luck was as rare as a four-leaf clover in winter.

“I never knew Kallias had a sister.” Rhys stated, his violet eyes meeting yours for a split second. You willed your expression from a scowl to a tight-lipped smile, already dreading the night to come.

“I’ve kept well hidden.”

“You have indeed.” He responded. Before he could inquire any more about you, a swift excuse left your lips.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to grab a glass of wine.” With a dip of his head you were excused, and you heard the start of a courtly conversation that would have had you ripping your hair from your head. You neared the refreshment table, admiring the faelights above you that twinkled like starlight as you walked. There wasn’t much for Starfall decorations, though you didn’t think the House of Wind needed any more ornamentation.

As you filled a glass with deep red wine, you let yourself study the room and its occupants. It was filled with nobles, all dressed in extravagant clothing that was similar to your own. At least you didn’t come overdressed, you thought to yourself. Another pass of the room had a glint of blue sparking your curiosity. Your gaze shifted over to a male dressed in a simple black button down and trousers, that blue flash coming from the jewels atop his hands. His wings protruded from his back, tucked in tightly as if hiding from sight. Your eyes widened a bit at the muscles flexing beneath the fabric, the slight scowl on his face, and the allure in his hazel eyes as they gazed back at you. Quickly you looked at your drink, swirling its contents as you tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

You didn’t usually get caught staring, but by the gods was it hard not to stare at him. Risking another glance, you brought your glass up to your lips to hide your wandering eyes. His attention was focused elsewhere, now intently set on the male in front of him and the blonde on his right. You swallowed harshly, watching as a small smile perked up at his lips. Shadows lapped around his feet and shoulders like a running river, constantly moving, never ceasing to slow, but rather always fluttering. He was ethereal, and that was a thought that had never crossed your mind when it came to a fae.

“You must be Kallias’ sister.” A voice soothed in your ear, causing a slight jolt to wrack your bones. The female laughed, a sound that rang like a windchime. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Feyre.” As your heart lulled to a soft beat once again, you nodded out of respect, admiring her kind eyes and the twinkling onyx jewels atop her head.

“It’s a pleasure.” She smirked, motioning towards the male you had been eyeing with a dainty hand. 

“I assume you haven’t met Azriel yet, considering your staring.” Your cheeks flushed again and she giggled, obviously sensing the shift.

“I wasn’t staring,” you grumbled, taking another sip of your wine.

“He doesn’t bite.” She laughed, taking your hand and dragging you towards the three fae that you had been spying on from afar. “Hey!” Feyre called in greeting, gaining the attention of them, much to your chagrin. “This is Y/N, Kallias’ sister. Y/N, this is Mor, Cassian, and Azriel.” You smiled softly with wide eyes, cursing your unfiltered thoughts for this moment. If you had kept to a corner, eyes glued to your glass, then this wouldn’t have happened. Yet, here you were.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you. Gorgeous dress, by the way.” The blonde smiled warmly, her eyes glittering and glazed from a couple glasses of alcohol.

“Thank you.” You muttered, fidgeting with a stone on your gown. You chanced a glance at Azriel again, only to find him already looking at you. A common occurrence tonight, you supposed.

“Well, I’m going to grab another drink.” Feyre declared with a wink as she pulled Cassian and Mor along with her. The two of them were smirking as well and you knew that she had put her Daemati skills to use. You cleared your throat, intending to refill your glass as well, just to get out of the conversation that was bound to take place. But as you went to take your leave, Azriel’s hand clasped around your wrist softly, keeping you in place.

“Why have we never heard of you before?” He asked, his words practically matching Rhysand’s from earlier. Usually you would grace that question with a forced smile and a short response, however, breathing in his euphoric scent had you feeling rather vulnerable.

“Um, Kallias and my father thought it best to keep my existence within the shadows.” You replied, nerves caressing your skin, inducing a shiver to crawl down your spine.

“Because of your magic.” He stated. You blinked at him in shock.

“How did you know that?” A miniscule smirk pulled his plush lips up, and for some unknown reason you wanted to kiss it off of them.

“I can sense it. It’s strong.”

“My magic is glamoured. How can you–” He shook his head in answer before gesturing towards your glass.

“Let me refill that for you.” There was no time to respond as he took it from your grasp and disappeared amongst the crowd. You glanced after him, but instead you met Kallias’ eyes and Viviane’s cheeky thumbs up. With a scowl you stalked off to the balcony, hoping for some privacy to redo your glamour. Much to your surprise, you found that your glamour was fully intact, leaving you in awe.

“How?” You muttered to yourself. Nobody else had sensed it, nobody but him. An electric touch hummed underneath your skin. You pressed a palm against your heart, feeling it skip, that pulse buzzing against your bones before you turned to face him. He was swathed in shadows with a hand extended out, a full glass of wine as an offering. You took it with an uneasy smile as that electrifying static increased at the brush of your fingers.

“Starfall will start soon.” You nodded at his words, glancing warily up at the sky as he came to stand beside you, your shoulders nearly touching.

“What’s so special about Starfall, anyway?” His lips tilted up in that ever soft smile that he seemed to own.

“Just watch.” As his words left his tongue, a streak of light entered the sky, covering you with a dull glow. Another and another passed by until the sky was full and your eyes were wide in wonder. You had never expected Starfall to be spectacular; it always seemed like just another pointless reason for fae to get together and drink themselves drunk, but standing there, you knew that was far from the truth.

“Shit,” you breathed out, eyes never leaving the sky, even though you felt his piercing gaze on your skin. You reached a hand into the darkness of the night, stretching over the railing as if you could touch one passing by. Azriel chuckled beside you, causing you to quickly pull your hand back in embarrassment. When you turned to look at him, a chord struck in your chest and that tingle of electricity that had been sizzling in the distance sparked. You felt a tug, body jolting a step toward him as he did the same.

“I–”

“You’re my mate.” He took another step, your noses almost touching, breathing in each other’s air as you just stared, taking in his eyes as if they were the stars that fell from the sky.

“Shit.” You repeated, placing a hand just below your throat as if the touch could bring more air into your lungs. Azriel reached out, a glimmer in his eyes as he placed his hand over yours and you knew that this was the touch of an exploding star, that he was the one you were reaching into the sky for. The bond plucked like a harpsichord string as soon as the two of you touched. It felt like home–it was home. He was home.

“Funnily enough,” you started, a brittle laugh leaving your throat, “I was actually dreading coming here tonight.”

“And now?” He queried, his head tilting like a curious animal, fingers moving and intwining with yours.

“Now, I can’t quite see why I was dreading it so much.” A smile lit up his features, bigger than you had seen all night, and your lips twitched to reciprocate the motion unknowingly until the two of you were grinning at each other like long lost friends.

“I’ve been holding out hope for a while now.” He murmured as he leaned closer, noses gently brushing, lips almost touching.

“Hope for what?”

“Hope that you existed.” You could feel his heartbeat in the crisp air, feel his wings stretching as he began to close the gap between you, to interlock your two souls as one.

“Y/N, we have to go now.” A voice broke the two of you out of your trance. Azriel’s hand fell back to his side as you were pulled away, his eyes unwavering from yours until you disappeared behind the door. You had your sights set on nothing but his lingering figure as the rooms flew past you in a blur. Once the cold air of winter hit you in the face, you snapped out of your stupor and wrenched your arm free from your captor.

“What the hell!” You exclaimed, the bite of the wind fueling your immediate anger. Viviane’s eyes bored into yours, silver lining her tear ducts as she moved to grab you again.

“We have to go,” she pleaded, “we just caught word that several Naga are loose on the grounds and they’re wreaking havoc. We have to go.”

As swiftly as your anger came, it dulled, your eyes turned to steel, and your jaw set. You nodded once, ripping the crown off of your head as you followed Viviane to Kallias’ form. A dull pain sat in your chest as you placed a hand on your brother’s arm. You still felt his eyes on you as the three of you erupted into shadows and smoke, leaving the Night Court and your mate behind. 

#part two will come! #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #sjmaas #sarah j maas #text #textpost #a03 #a03 fanfic #a03 writer

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Spider Webs Part 2 - König*Fem!Reader

Let’s play a game with our colonel.

Part two of my previous writing:

content warning: 18+, mdni, phone sex, masturbation, monitoring

100% will have part 3 because this isn’t what I’m planning first and I accidentally made myself need to write another chapter to finish this work, but hope you enjoy! :)

part 3 bonus chapter 1

Since the day König discovered your obsession with him at your home, your relationship shifted from “superior and subordinate” to something much more intimate, between lovers and predators with their prey.

Who is the predator, and who is the prey? Nice question.

You would feign that you were going to give him his favorite latte and report some “important information”, went into his office, and came out 20 minutes later.

“gott, your hands... so tight... shit...! ahh...”Your delicate hands wrapped tightly around his cock, moving at a swift pace, and after you gave him a playful squeeze on the tip, König came with a moan in your hand, cum splattered on your black shirt.

“Oooh, colonel.” You said with a fake concerned tone “You’re too loud, and you stained my shirt. Do you want your comrades to know what a slutty pervert you are? Cumming hard in your assistant’s hands behind the door of your office?”

“Nein...” 

His voice was raspy, weakly spoken due to the exhaustion of post-orgasm.

You took out your handkerchief — the one you hid before so he would come to your house to find it — wiping the cum from your hand and your clothes while maintaining eye contact with König.

“Let’s play a game, colonel.” A mischievous smile appeared on your face. “From now on, no more self pleasuring, no more helping each other, or even sex for us."

“Whoever breaks the rules first needs to listen to the other person's order.” He watched you fold the handkerchief into a perfect square, put it on his desk, and left him panting on his chair.

You didn’t give him a chance to reject, not like he wouldn’t oblige though.

You gave him three tiny monitors and told him to set them up in his office and his room, of course, no blind spots were allowed. In return, you gave him access to those monitors you set up before to catch him sneaking into your house.

With these monitors, you both were able to see what the other was doing all the time.

Including the bathroom, because you both were sick perverts.

König’s libido wasn't that high until he met you, so he thought he might be able to beat you by imagining what he could do to you as a reward for the longtime self-control he maintained during your dangerous game.

But apparently, you weren’t an easy competitor to be beaten.

Sometimes he opened his laptop, clicked on the app for the monitors, and saw you walking in a black nightgown, the silky and close-fitting one that hugs your curves and challenged his self-control.

Well, you should admit he was doing much better than you estimated too.

You bought a second monitor for your computer, just for you to watch him every moment, and he really didn’t do anything sex-related.

You praised him right into his ear when he sat on his office chair, noticing him clutched onto the armrest hard enough to make his knuckles white, but he still played the game pretty well.

But no matter how he well performed, it’s still your game, you would win, eventually.

König came back from a two-week mission at night, it’s not arduous, but it’s an annoying one.

He walked to his office, took off his gear, and sat on his chair with a tired grunt.

The curtains were down, avoiding any moonlight pouring into the room,and he sat under the dim light of the lamp, eyes flickered around, finally lying on his laptop.

What were you doing now? 

He missed you, he hadn’t seen you for two weeks, he missed the little praises you whispered to him, missed the heart-warming smile you gave to others, which only turned to a fetching one when you looked at him with evil glints in your eyes.

Open the laptop and clicked on the app he opened countless times before, he searched over the monitors to find your figure.

and there you are, lying on your bed, wearing a silver-white nightgown this time.

Your chest rose and fell at a steady pace, your facial expression was calm.

You looked divine in his eyes, like a goddess.

But his gaze moved down, to the place the strap of the nightgown fell down your shoulder, and down to the part of your skirt riding up, revealing your thigh.

König felt his body was consumed by fire, burning fiercely at the sight of you, even though you looked serene, the dirty thoughts about you were unstoppable in his mind.

How eager he wanted to kiss your soft lips, grab your thighs and ram into your pussy with an unforgivable pace, and left a bite mark on your shoulder until you cry out his name loudly.

He looked at the monitor again, you hadn't moved an inch, dead asleep because it was already midnight at the moment.

He hesitantly put his hand over the obvious bulge his cock made in his cargo pants. You wouldn’t discover if he pleasured himself this time, right?

but when he touched his shaft over his pants, he knew it was unable to stop right now.

He quickly pulled his cargo pants to his knee, letting his cock spring out with how hard it already was, the precum made a mess to his palm when he started moving his hand at a quick speed.

“Hmm...so gut...” He closed his eyes, recalling the memory of you falling to your knees, pink lips swallowing his cock, and he could almost hear the squelch sounds when you took him deep down in your throat.

but his breath hitched and a stuttered groan left him when he opened his eyes again.

You stared right at him through the camera, the corner of your eyes crinkling as your lips formed a cheeky grin.

Oh, he was so fucked up.

He watched you reached your arm, opened the bedside drawer, and took out your phone.

His work phone rang a few seconds later.

“Good evening, sir.” Your happiness was obvious in your voice. “What are doing now? Hmm?”

“I’m sorry, Schatz...” König moaned out, but his hand only became quicker once your voice flowed into his ear.

“Don’t feel sorry, colonel.” You cooed, and his eyes were glued to your body when you sat up on the edge of your bed, eyes never left the camera.

“Just came back from a tough mission, right? I know, don’t worry.” Your leg are placed over the other. “Let me help you, okay?”

“Bitte... I need you, h-help me...” König’s hand shakily holding his phone, and he knew he must sounded pathetic.

“I missed you so much, König. You know that?” You shift your hips a little bit, pulling your nightgown higher, and higher until fully expose your lacy black underwear to him. 

“How much I want to lay my hands on you..... feel your cock twitch under my touch......” 

You opened your legs. König can see it clearly even through the monitor, your panties were already been soaked by your arousal, making a darker spot at the clothes cling to your pussy, and he moaned out at the sight.

“When you come to the office in the daytime, what should I do to you as my trophy? Should I make you lick all my juices when I sit on your face, making your hood dampen by them? Or should I bring you a collar with my name on it, and make you mine forever?”

König already felt like he was about to cum, too long without having any relief, without seeing your pretty face and hearing your sugary words,making his orgasm build up much faster than usual.

“Ja! Make me yours! Bitte... Mach mich zu deinem...verlass mich nicht...ahh” (Make me yours...don’t leave me)

He tumbled over the edge with a high pitch whine, lukewarm cum spilled all over his skin and his abdomen, and in his hazy mind, he could only hear your enchanting voice, telling him the thing he wanted to hear the most.

“Good...So good for me. Now, ready for your punishment, yeah?”

#könig #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig x you #konig smut #cod imagine #female pronouns

[rorywritesjunk]

You've got to promise not to stop when I say when

Buggy's been a bit of a brat today and you've had enough. Rating: NC-17, MDNI at all. There be sex happening here. Warnings: Mommy kink, use of 'baby boy'. Everyone's consenting. Buggy is such a brat and a sub. My first time writing something like this. Pegging. Buggy cries and is overstimulated because of course he would be. Aftercare. A/N: Suggested by an Anon for Buggy to have a Mommy Kink. I hope you like it! Thank you for the suggestion. I had fun writing it! Also, I've never participated in anything kink related personally, so what I write is just from what I've picked up on other fics.

Title comes from "Everlong" by Foo Fighters.

“I need you to be good, baby boy.” You murmured as you knelt between Buggy’s spread legs. He could only nod slowly, swallowing heavily as your lube covered fingers brushed over his tight entrance. He shut his eyes, taking a few deep breaths as he forced himself to relax. Your movements were slow and gentle, applying just enough pressure for the tip of your finger to breach him. He let out a soft whine, head turning to the side as he threw his arm over his face. 

“It’s okay, baby boy.” You assured softly as you pushed your finger up to the first knuckle, then the second. You poured a bit more lube onto your fingers, wanting to make sure he was prepped safely. You never wanted to hurt him. “Mommy’s got you.”

He whimpered when you said that, moving his arm away from his face so he could look at you. Tears were welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill. You reached down with your free hand, touching his cheek; the tears started coming, staining his face and ruining his makeup. He turned his face to kiss your palm, letting out a quiet whine when you pulled your finger back, only to push it back in. 

You chuckled softly, caressing his cheek before pulling your hand away, resting it on his stomach. He was already getting over stimulated just on your voice, the gentle tone almost too much for him. Buggy had been a brat all day to you, tracking mud into the bedroom, destroying the frosting on a cake you made for a crew member’s birthday, and when he tracked mud into the room again, this time getting it onto the clean bed linens, you were finished. He needed to be punished, that behaving like that was not acceptable, and that Mommy was disappointed in her baby boy.

And now you had him on his back, spread open for you as you added a second finger, humming contently as he tried to figure out where to put his hands. Sometimes he’d grab locks of his hair, but he often pulled too hard and caused himself discomfort. He didn’t want to grab the bed sheets, worried he’d get in trouble if he messed them up even further. You thought about taking some pity, letting his hands touch you perhaps, but you remembered this was a punishment, that you’d be fucking the discipline into him once he was ready for it. 

“Relax, Buggy.” You reminded him as his hands went to his hair, grabbing fistfuls as your fingers pumped into him. 

“S’toomuch.” He whimpered. “Please-”

“Please what, Buggy?” You asked. He was almost ready for you, for his punishment, but you wanted to make sure he was okay because you never wanted to hurt him or make him uncomfortable. This was all for him, every time, and he needed to let you know if he was okay. “Baby boy, I need you to tell Mommy what you need, okay?”

He nodded as he took a deep breath, shuddering as you teased him with a third finger. He took a moment, trying to get his brain working. After an eternity, he exhaled, body relaxing as he looked at you.

“I need you, please.” He mumbled. “Please, Mommy.”

You gave him a smile, adding a third finger slowly, making sure he was properly lubed up for you. It was hard to move your hand away, you loved seeing him like this, spread out on the bed, a whimpering mess as he begged for you. You moved your hand from his stomach, brushing over his cock as you reached for the black leather harness laying on the bed beside you. You pulled your other hand free and grabbed the base of his cock, giving him a few strokes, tightening your grip around him.

“You’ll have to help me out, baby boy.” You told him. Buggy nodded, swallowing heavily as he closed his eyes, relaxing into the sheets. This wasn’t the first time you fucked him using his own cock, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it was always fascinating to be holding it in your hand like a toy before attaching it to your harness. Giggling, you poured a generous amount of lube onto his cock, stroking your hand over it to ensure it was fully coated. 

“Relax, Buggy.” You reminded him as you pressed the tip to his entrance, holding his cock in your hand as you pushed your hips slowly. He let out a whine at the breach and you waited for him to adjust to the feeling. You put your other hand on one side of him, bracing yourself on it as you pushed the tip in just a bit. “You’re being so good, baby boy. The tip is in and you’re handling it so well.”

“I-I’m good?” He whimpered softly. Oh, he was so sweet in that moment. Tears were already streaming from his eyes, his makeup running, and you wanted to wrap him up in a cozy blanket and hold him all night, but you also knew he’d be such a brat if you stopped right then to do that. So you pushed forward, glancing down to see his cock slowly entering him. 

“You’re being so good, baby.” You assured him as he sniffled. “You’re taking your cock so well, baby boy, I’m so proud of you.” 

He nodded, eyes shiny with tears as you pressed forward, your bodies flush as you bottomed out. He let out a choked sob, covering his face with his hands as he forced his body to relax. You reached over and pulled one of his hands away before leaning over to press kisses to his face.

“I got you, baby boy.” You murmured, rolling your hips slowly. 

He was vocal as always with whimpers and whines for you, the sweetest noises you could ever hear. You kept one hand on his face while the other supported you, keeping you upright as your hips thrust into his. He shut his eyes and covered his mouth with his hand when you brushed against his prostate, the sensation almost too much for him.

“No, no, Buggy.” You pulled his hand away from his mouth. “Don't be naughty when I'm punishing you. Mommy needs to hear those beautiful noises, my baby boy.” He nodded, biting his lip as you pulled your hips back, only to thrust back into him harshly. He let out a moan, hands now gripping the bed sheets. You decided to take some pity on your baby boy. “You can touch me.”

His hands were on your waist before you even finished talking. You chuckled and kissed his forehead, stroking his cheek gently. “You're doing so good, baby boy, taking your cock like this. You're learning your lesson, aren't you? You're such a good boy, Mommy’s so proud.”

Buggy leaned into your touch as he rocked his hips with yours, clenching around himself. He took a shuddering breath, eyes shut as he nodded to your praises. He was being good for you, that’s all he ever wanted. He dug his nails into your hips when you stroked his prostate again, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he would last much longer like this. Between the praises, your touches, and fucking himself on his own cock, he was surprised he was lasting as long as he had. He wanted to hold out, to enjoy the punishment just a bit longer, but you angled your hips suddenly, and every thrust was hitting that bundle of nerves inside of him.

“It’s okay, baby boy.” You said to him as he let out a cry, eyes shut tightly as he started cumming. You stilled your hips, keeping him plugged up with his cock. Tears were rolling down his cheeks still and he moved his hands to cover his face once more. You pulled your hips back slowly, humming in approval when you looked down between his legs. You chuckled softly as you removed the strap, allowing him to reattach his cock as you laid down between his legs. “You made such a mess, Buggy.” 

“I-I’m sorry-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” You told him, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. His body was trembling, and you weren’t sure how much more he wanted to take, but you wanted to clean him up, and this was something he often enjoyed. Tentatively, you spread him just enough to drag your finger over his hole, collecting some of the cum spilling out. He cracked an eye open just as you took your finger into your mouth, licking it clean. 

“Oh fu-”

Your mouth was on him, tongue lapping at his skin, collecting the mixture of cum, lube, and sweat that was coating his thighs and ass. You started stroking his cock as well, and every other stroke you’d pull your mouth back, praising him, saying what a good boy he was for you, that you were so happy and proud of him. It didn’t take him long to start cumming again, his cries weak from the exhaustion of the whole ordeal. 

There was a fuzzy blanket at the foot of the bed that you grabbed, wrapping it around him as you pulled him against you. He buried his face against your chest as you rubbed the soft fabric against his cheek, wiping at the tears and makeup, not caring if the blanket got dirty. You needed to ensure he was okay.

“Buggy?” You murmured as you ran your fingers through his hair gently. He mumbled something as he shut his eyes, cheeks starting to turn red. “Hey, hey, you okay?”

He just nodded, not looking at you as you cleaned up his face. You started to pull back, wanting to get him properly cleaned up and to get him a snack, but he wrapped his arms back around you, pulling you closer.

“I’ll be good from now on.” He mumbled against your skin. You chuckled softly, letting your fingers run through his hair. “Promise, Mommy.”

“That’s all I want, baby boy.” 

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

the good stuff, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Too many people called it love when really all they wanted was a socially acceptable reason to have mediocre sex. Or someone to emotionally coddle them. Min Yoongi wanted neither. He knew where to get the good stuff and he didn't do coddling - mostly because he didn't want to admit his own emotions.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, fingering, handjob, choking); porn with emotions nobody's surprised; Yoongi's POV

--

“I’ve been fucked up in the head.”

Skin tingling, nerves firing, blood on fire.

All he could muster up was a breathless, “What?”

Heavy breath, hair a mess, looking up, and that energy in her eyes gleaming, shimmering, alive. He could still feel it coursing through his veins. The shadow of her touch in him, his body radiant from dark divinity, coming down but still so high.

She tapped the side of her skull with two fingers, flitting pink tongue dancing at the edge of her smirk. “My brain. I got all messed up because someone said something that really bothered me and I just… hah…” A sigh like smoke. “Needed to feel like me again.”

He blinked slowly, fascinated by the articulation after the roughness.

She ticked her chin at him. Licked the air between the lips of a wicked smile.

“You do that for me, Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi wanted to say, you do that for me too, but then the past ten minutes replayed in his head and he realized he wasn’t so sure if he was himself or playing a part, perhaps simply a puppet hopelessly swept up in her insane sexual energy.

He stared at her naked body below him, electrified.

He liked sex. That was a given. He had determined, however, that sex was nothing more than a quick high, and then there was that disconcerting eternal struggle of how to define the indefinable. The word love popping up all of a sudden, just because sex was involved. Confronting him with the decision between keep going or stop, and stop just seemed so much more appealing. Once love became the label, then came the emotional coddling. Yoongi found he wasn’t good at it, mostly because he didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to emotionally coddle anyone, thus leading his relations to be nonexistent or surface-level. Sex was just a means to an end. Two people chasing the same fleeting feeling, seconds of a high that faded away quickly. A tiring process that led to a mediocre result.

Unless you could find the good stuff, of course.

Yoongi knew where to find the good stuff.

It had been a while.

And then they had run into each other, by chance. Him and the good stuff. It had startled him, because he hadn’t expected to see her stepping out of the train station during his nightly walk home. Enough time had elapsed that he wasn’t sure if he had dreamed up those nights tangled up in bed with burning arousal between bodies. He had almost hesitated to say anything. There seemed to be an invisible weight threatening to bow her frame. Lowered shoulders and unapproachable air, even in those heeled, thigh-high, black leather boots and fluffy black coat. Yoongi had noticed people eyeing her solitude, getting ready to chime in with their stupid opinion, but they quickly shut the fuck up the second they glanced into those piercing eyes.

Then those eyes noticed him.

He remembered the sex.

Remembered the way her intensity bled into him, invigorated him, ignited everything.

Honestly, the orgasms were just one small detail of many that painted those colorful nights.

She spoke first.

He never thought of himself as a repeat offender, but he allowed himself to be wrong sometimes.

How could he not, seeing that sly smile paired with that sudden suggestion?

Which how he found himself gasping for breath in the semi-darkness, her bare shoulder blades hitting the wall of his apartment with finality. Two fingers deep, all the way to his knuckles. Clothes all over the floor. Heat rising, skin tingling with kisses. Wet, slick, strong, both her tongue thrusting into his mouth and the walls closing in around his fingers. Her sweet exhale drifted into his mouth. Ten minutes before the true conversation, Yoongi was ensnared in the body talk.

Sex was just a quick high.

A whole lot of work for a whole lot of nothing.

Except when you had the good stuff.

Then it felt like this.

Her hand had slid along his back. Down to his waist, graceful fingers fanning out, pulling him closer. Barely enough time to take a breath. Skin to skin. All of a sudden, raw passion blooming in the shadows of their bodies. He looked down. Perky tits, delectable curve of waist to hip, lush thighs pressed to the back of his hand and then they opened, exposing those pussy lips stuffed with his glistening fingers pumping in and out, in and out, his long hair over her shaking breath and wicked smile.

She pushed his head down.

He snaked his tongue around her jutting nipple, tasting sweet musk and inhaling the smoke of her perfume. Licking, sucking, flicking, one and then the other, matching the pace of his hand, building up speed and power.

Yoongi was good with his mouth and he was good with his hands.

She knew that, but he had no problem demonstrating again.

There wasn’t enough air for words. Not between her low, lustful moans, not with his mouth occupied, and with his skin on fire, craving touch. One hand in his hair and the other tracing his shoulder. Her fingertips drew invisible patterns and left burning arousal in their wake, hotter and higher, her hips rocking into his hand, fuck, so deep, so wet, so strong, her intensity bleeding into the calm countenance that he kept up to maintain composure, and suddenly the question was… for what?

Her fingers slid down the nape of his neck.

Nails digging into his spine, crescents of desire along his vertebrate.

Why do I need to maintain composure?

Fingertips sliding down his collarbone.

He sucked harder, flexing tongue against hard nipple, one of his hands against the wall, the other between her legs, the rest of his body seared with lust as her hand travelled down, down, to taut skin and throbbing hardness, and he thought to himself, who am I being calm for?

His eyes darted up.

She was looking down.

Agile tongue between teeth as she gripped his cock and began to pump it in time of his thrusts. The right amount of tightness. Precise positioning, stimulating the head against the side of her palm as she went up and down.

She wanted to watch as his body ignited under her persistent touch.

Staring into eyes that gleamed with shimmering energy, and Yoongi asked himself again, why the fuck am I holding back, and suddenly he stopped doing just that, simply didn’t care and let himself feel everything, overwhelming and layered sensations piling one after another, the musky taste on his tongue, the acidic fire in his veins, the visceral feeling of her viscous juices clinging to his fingers, adding another and plunging in, filling up that tight wet hole, fuck, how he wanted his cock in that pussy, their hips following the same rhythm, the lower half of his body radiating with pleasure, and he kissed up the curve of her breast, her trembling throat under his shaking lips, and then he put her face in the shadow of his long black hair.

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

He lifted his hand off the wall and clamped it around her neck, fingers pressing into the sides, tightening his hold, watching her lashes flutter and her head tip back, her wanton moan stinging his ceiling, driving her hips down into his fingers, thundering pulse around them as she came. He saw the gratification ripple across her torso, felt it throb against his fingers clenched within shivering walls dripping sex, her back arching, body creating perfect lines to grace his vision.

This high just kept going and going.

Her hand was still stroking his cock. Leisurely but with strength, and suddenly he was reminded of the unbearable heat pooling at his core, hot and relentless. His hand shot off her neck, swallowing a gasp at the same time she did, watching her surface from the euphoric haze for only a moment before he shoved her head down, backing up a step as her knees hit the ground, immediately replacing her missing hand with his own, pumping hard and fast and already there.

Her hands gripping his tense thighs.

Closer.

Her mouth opened.

Dark, wet, glistening.

He shoved his cock down her throat and groaned. So tight, so soft, so ready, twisting his fingers into her hair while the tremors ransacked his lower half. Thick streams flooding her mouth, tingling sensitivity sparking as she swallowed around him, his eyes rolling back as the pleasure hit new heights from her tongue circling, circling, licking along his length and curling around the throbbing, swollen head.

It was so fast and yet every second counted.

Every detail meaningful, painting the night into his memory.

Surreal.

Yoongi used to think sex was only a quick high. Only two people chasing a fleeting feeling. Calling it love so they could continue the socially acceptable way of getting high. He didn’t want to call something like that love. It seemed flimsy and cheap. All that to get a fuck? He could get a fuck without calling it love.

He didn’t want to emotionally coddle anyone.

He barely had a hold on his own emotions.

She popped her mouth off him after the shudders subsided. Kneeled at his feet, and yet he was the one who felt below when her head raised. Those piercing eyes under tangled hair met his, smirk in her lips as she admitted that she had been fucked up in the head.

His chest rattled, struggling to supply enough oxygen to his burning muscles and lightheaded mind.

Yoongi kept telling himself he didn’t understand this feeling.

“What… What did they say to you?” he panted.

She was breathing hard too, annoyance flashing over her beautiful features.

“Said I was nothing without sex.”

His whole body hummed, shot nerves teeming with ravenous lust.

“The fuck?” he heard himself hiss.

She clicked her tongue, one hand on her leg. Not bothering to close them. Traces of her juices caught the low light, highlighting her puffy pussy lips and the flexed muscles of her inner thighs.

“That’s why I’ve kinda been avoiding you. Stopped having sex for about a month. Did other shit I wanted to do. And so what? So fuckin’ stupid,” she muttered, rubbing her other thumb against her lower lip, the hand on her knee clenching to a fist. She wasn’t looking at him, but away from him, out the window. “All that for what? If I need it, I need it. If I want it, I’ll get it. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want what I need just to look human in someone else’s eyes.”

Her eyes flickered back, dark and intense.

“I feel a lot better indulging in you,” she said.

A slow smirk.

“The best in a while, actually.”

Yoongi was still in the midst of remembering his hand tightening around her neck and her orgasm around his fingers, arousal continuing to burn deep inside, staring at this image in front of his eyes and wondering why he still thought sex was only a quick high.

It could be a quick high.

Or it could be the good stuff.

Electricity the moment their eyes connected and intentions ignited. Privacy in what only they knew, in what they felt, in their real, bare selves in front of each other, and now his heart was racing fast, breathless, realizing the orgasm was over but the high was still there.

“I thought you were always strong,” Yoongi murmured to her kneeling form. “Didn’t think someone could bother you like that.”

“Strong?”

She cocked an eyebrow.

“Strength is knowing you have weaknesses. Foolishness is pretending you don’t have any,” she chuckled, standing up. Rolled her neck, cracking it with a pop. “Ow. See, out of practice.”

Her eyes drifted back to him, devious glint, and Yoongi looked back, pounding heartbeat in his ears, undefinable emotions turbulent behind his calm composure.

“Can’t say I’ve enjoyed being avoided,” he admitted.

Her eyes shifted. Softer. “I was hoping you might understand.”

He understood that he too would have been peeved and done the same thing she did. “I don’t hold it against you. Just saying I don’t really like fucking other people anymore.”

She frowned, looking empathetic. “Damn, that many disappointments in a row?”

He stared into her eyes.

No, that wasn’t it.

“I don’t really feel anything with other people.”

He wondered if her heart raced as fast as his did. If her nerves prickled with pins and needles after every orgasm with him, and if she wished she could feel it again like he did. If the high seemed to keep going even though they were face to face now, giving voice to the vulnerable. But this felt… different. Admission without weight. The truth out there, hanging between them, and it didn’t feel oppressive, yet it was still binding.

How strange.

She ticked her head, gazing at him under lowered lashes. Mischievous smile included.

The good stuff.

“You know, I’d have to say I feel the same about you.”

Her fingers trailed along his hip, pulling him closer once more.

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

#yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

[axailslink]

Judy Harmon Hc's

• Judy is the definition of acts mean and is mean

• Doesn't smile much but when she does you are usually the reason

• Loves hearing you talk she calls you 'songbird' because as she's said before "you talk so damn much"

• Completely different when you both are alone

• Kissing is her love language and she takes it very much to heart if you peck her lips instead of giving her a full kiss

• Demands your attention with just a simple look

• Feisty as hell

• Loves holding her rifle it's something about having a little extra weight in her hands that makes her feel good

• Can be violent but never to a lover of course however anyone else she's quick to throw punches first talk later

• Do not let the height fool you she is the dominant person in the relationship

• She has a stone cold face however when you are anywhere near it lightens you can literally see her eyes smile before she does

• Judy loves when you touch her in any kind of way whether it be sexual or a simple hand hold

• Can not deal with being away from you for too long she will complain the whole time

• OVERPROTECTIVE? Absolutely if you're joining her while she's patrolling anything black panther party related she's standing in front of you rifle in her hand and she's made you grab her switchblade. "That pig moves you better be gone"

• If she sees you hurt her in any way, shape or form all of her morals are thrown out of the door

• Surprisingly was very nervous your first time like didn't know where to put her hand nervous you had her sweating and shit

• Not easily jealous or threatened by another attractive person in fact she laughs at someone trying to get with you. (It took her a while to get your number so yeah seeing anyone else trying is a hilarious sight.)

• Arguments with her can last forever because she's so damned stubborn

• Claims to hate cuddles but loves skin to skin contact 🙄 make it make sense

• After an intense night -whether it be fighting the pigs or fucking- she just wants to lay with you skin to skin completely nude the only warmth you two are using is each other. She loves that.

• Can't do the whole secret thing and doesn't care that you're both women

"I don't see the problem I love her just as much as a man loves his wife. Sounds like some made up bullshit to me y'all stay tryna control the next motherfucker"

Nsfw kinda 🤷🏾‍♀️

• Wants your eyes on her at all times especially when you're climaxing "look at me"

• Walks you like a dog it's honestly kind of embarrassing but if she's missing you and gets the smallest moment alone with you she's grabbing you by your pants and pulling you to a corner with some sort of privacy

• Does not like repeating herself and she won't

• Heavy on wanting you to beg for her "I'm sorry what did you say? I couldn't hear you...did you say faster?"

• Loves to overstimulate you just because she loves seeing your legs shake and hearing your mumbles, whimpers and whines drives her crazy

• Aftercare is a must and will never leave you without it

• Loves teasing you while you're in the bath will touch will bite will nip but she won't give you what you want. Her fingers will rub every part of your skin except where you truly desire it. So long story short she's fucking annoying and will tease you for her own personal fun.

• This woman lives in your thighs you will wake up to her kissing up your thighs on many mornings it's a tease thing of course but sometimes she furthers the action especially if she knows she won't be home at a reasonable time

• Her favorite thing to do to you is to bend you over a counter and ram her fingers inside of you knuckle deep just before she has to leave because she knows that's all that will be on your mind as you're working, eating and going about your day.

• Never leaves you unsatisfied if you're unsatisfied she's unsatisfied

• Oh my God's you let her anywhere near your cooch oh she ain't stopping until her jaw is locked and in pain

• Your legs squeezing shut or shaking is only motivation for Judy in fact call her name out while you at it because it does nothing but rile her up

• "Captain Harmon" yeah you might want to remember that she prefers that name

• Seeing as you are rarely seen with a man she does everything possible to make sure people know you are taken so you have plenty of marks to show it. Hickeys usually trail from your neck to your inner thigh when it comes to Judy.

• You licked her fingers clean once and now she loves to see you do it all the time

"there we go clean that shit up"

• Loves to try new things and is always open to an experiment

<3 <3 <3 ᴊᴜᴅʏ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴ

uoɯɹɐH ʎpnſ <3 <3 <3

"Cum on my tongue and I'll be home on time tonight to finish this off correctly"

"stay still"

"You know my name don't play with me"

"I should tie you up next time... I hear that's something new folks are doing"

"If I have to repeat myself you gone piss me off"

<3 <3 <3 ᴊᴜᴅʏ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴ

uoɯɹɐH ʎpnſ <3 <3 <3

A/n: I had way too much fun with this shit anyways enjoy buh bye ✌🏾(I'm so I'm love with this woman y'all have no fucking idea.)

Taglist:

@verachii

@mocha-aya

@shuriszn

@lolas-bunny

@lucillele

@shuri-lover

@quintessencewrites

@yamsthoughts

@saintwrld

@rxcently

@lunax0654

@karimwillia

@adeola-the-explorer 

@garbagesleepschedule

@bratydoll

@gubrii

@vampphase

@ctrl-liah

@trixielwt

@6-noir

@annoyingtidalwavequeen

@atssukoo

@shuri-my-love 

@inmyheadimobsessed

@letitias-fav

@rxcently 

@iwillbiteabitch

@malltake12

@mxyx-rx444

@kiwidreamersstuff

@secretgyals

@shurisnewbabymomma

@shurisbigtoe

@darkangelchronicles

@writesbyriri

@locoforshuri

@mbakuetshurisprincess

@sleepyshuri

#dominique thorne x reader #dominique thorne riri williams #dominique thorne #judy harmon fluff #judy harmon fanfiction #judy harmon x black!fem reader #judy harmon x reader #judy harmon #judy harmon x you #judy harmon x fem!reader #Dominique thorne judy harmon #judas and the black messiah #judy harmon fanfic #judt harmon x black!reader #judy harmon x black!reader #judy harmon x black!fem!reader #judy harmon smut #Dominique Thorne judy harmon #riri my love #riri williams mcu #riri williams imagine #riri williams x you #riri williams #riri williams x reader #riri wiliams x reader #riri x black!reader #riri x fem reader #riri x reader #riri writes #riri williams x black!reader

[chicxxonaa]

Hi. This is the first text post I’ve made relating to writing. I wanted to challenge myself to make prompts for my favorite fandoms. So like this is my first one. I’m still an amateur. So I hope you all enjoy and give me good feedback 🙏🏻. (This is JJK related btw)

Content: angst. some fluff lol. this is from Gojo’s perspective. (Will post Geto’s version sometimes today or this week)

I thought of you again today.

And I decided to look for you.

…

I tried looking for your eyes first. Christmas has passed again without you. So I thought the low glow of the festive lights and lanterns could guide me to them.

Your eyes always spoke of something alluding to longing. They’re dark as the ocean at night. When I looked far off into the bay when the moon was nearing its new phase, I thought of how your eyes used to look at me. Stare at me back, like how I stare out into the abyss of the sea. They were black, cold, full of melancholy. Yet when you smiled they would scrunch up and wrinkle your temples.

…

I tried looking for your ears next. When I last saw you, you were still sporting those black gauged earrings that would hang like the ears of Buddha. I always teased you with a statement and in return you’d give me a hard hit in the arm. So I visited shops less known to the public where they did ear piercings. I’d look at their displays and see if anything stuck out. I saw beautiful designs. Black was always your signature color. And I may not be the most fashionable in this area, but you always reminded me of the color of royal blue. The kind of blue you see on pictures of nobles. The kind of blue that shows elegance. I think something like that would make you look like royalty.

…

I then decided to search for your mouth. Your voice. Your lips. Your teeth.

You never were much of a smiler. My jokes would only arouse a boring expression or you rolling your eyes away from me. Always so stoic. Only making slight little smiles when something was interesting. Or when you were trying to smooth talk your way out of trouble with the headmaster. A polite, small, gentle smile.

But when you smiled at me. It was so distinct that I could still draw it a million times in my head.

You would show your top teeth when you smiled at me, followed by a laugh. And what a laugh it was. It was dark and rich like chocolate. Your lips, thin and slightly chapped, stretched to form a marvel on your pale mooned face. It would savor in my mind for days on end. I never wanted such a taste to go away. So I made it my priority to make you laugh and smile as much as I could.

So I searched for that same sweetness in the places I would make you smile the most. The arcade. The little coffee shop with just three small tables. The alley with stairs and rails where I would attempt to glide down without loosing my balance. And in return, you’d join. Finding amusement in my foolishness. What a fool I have become so.

…

I searched for your body and hair. You were always so well kept. You always wore a bun, dark strands slicked back with a few falling to the front of your face. The color was black like raven feathers. You were pale, unblemished, and not a sign of age to your features. Like the glow of the moon above fresh, untouched snow. You weren’t always the best eater. Other than your favorite dish, Mak-guksu, you couldn’t really come around to eating everything and anything I got you. “I can’t get rid of that taste back there.” You’d say. Alluding to your abilities.

So I went looking for you in temples. Where I would see nests of crows circling around me. Death’s messengers. Near the temple, I’d see worshippers come in with white robes that would blend with the snow. With their dim lanterns, the shadows bounced off radiating a warm glow from their holy attire. A pure being, no matter what you did.

…

The last thing I searched for were your hands. Slender, rugged, brittle. Calloused and tender. Your knuckles would go white every time you were writing out a report for class, because you would be so focused you’d forget to let your fingers relax after each pen stroke. Your fingernails were clean, despite the dirty work you’d do. But I loved your hands. I loved the way they’d come close when you passed me something like a dropped pen, a cup of tea. Or that night during the summer solstice, when we would go out to downtown for festivities and we left the group to go find a better spot to watch the fireworks. When we found a small ledge just off the edge of river where the show was beginning, we watched in awe. Smiling, the sound of the whistles that ended with a loud bang as an array of sparks and flames danced in the air.

And that’s when your hands,

your warm hands, crept their way, sliding carefully across the rail bar where the ledge was, temptingly to interlace with my own. Like the call of the siren I couldn’t resist such a moment. It started with our pinkies overlapping, testing the waters. Then it soon became our ring and middle fingers intertwined like stitches. And surely, your hands clasped with mine and for a moment, the world seemed still. I could see from the corner of my lenses that you weren’t looking at the sky anymore. You were looking at me. The hue of bright blues, purples, greens and yellows illuminating such a heavenly sight. You looked at me, like you knew me for a thousand years. You saw me. And I saw all of you. Your hands, skin, hair, ears, mouth, nose and eyes, were all I saw. And they painted the most beautiful of all living things that this earth has given me. And you leaned forward to share the warmth of your love, as I couldn’t hear the sounds of the world, and only the sound of your breath slowly rising as you planted a kiss on my lips. Forever marking me as yours.

…

I searched for the that same warmth that night so long ago on the same ledge, at the same time it all happened.

I place my hand on the cold, snow covered rail bar, to see if you would take it.

But you never did.

I looked forward to see anything of your likeness.

But I saw nothing.

I shut off all thought, muted the outside world as much I could

To hear your sound, a voice, a whisper.

But there was silence.

And in that silence, I only heard the sound of my heart, becoming more numb under the freezing night. I can only hear my breath, visible to the icy air.

…

I searched for you today, Suguru.

I failed, but I’ll try again next time I think of you.

#jujutsu kaisen #satosugu #satosugu angst #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk

[artsyriv]

The End

24 hours turned into 36 hours, which turned into 72. All of that time, Barry didn't sleep, instead asking everyone on the crew when they had last seen her, and taking a flyover of the local area. There was no sign of her.

Days turned into weeks. The monotony of it was driving Barry insane. He woke up, researched a new location, then scouted it with Taako, then back to the ship when they inevitably found nothing. Even Taako wasn't as ruthless as Barry, taking time to eat and sleep. These were luxuries that he couldn't afford. 

Sometimes he would break down in the middle of the night and Lucretia would make him a cup of tea. He didn't know why she was up, or why her knuckles were stained with ink, or why she looked so sad, but he appreciated the gesture. She tried to tell him to sleep but he ignored her, crashing for the bare minimum to stay functional. Functional as if he were a robot. 

He felt like a robot. The world felt grey and distant, and everything felt like a task, a chore assigned to his program. He didn't understand the glances towards him and then away, the whispers. 

Merle and Magnus persuaded him to take a shower and a nap after day 8, but when he had collapsed into his bed, he could smell her and he started crying so hard that he couldn't breathe. Magnus had come in to check on him, and when he saw the situation, he picked Barry up and put him in his own bed. 

They didn't suggest he try to sleep in his own bed again, but offered theirs as a lifeline. Barry knew they pitied him but he didn't have time to care. He had to keep working. He had to find her. She had to be out there somewhere. 

Weeks turned into months. Dead end after dead end was detailed on the map in front of Barry's eyes but he could barely focus. His hands shook from too much coffee, black coffee, he didn't have time for anything else. 

"Barry, can I talk to you for a minute?" It was Davenport, although Barry had to blink a few times to make sure. 

"Sure." 

They went into his office and Davenport began immediately. "Barry, you're unstable. You need to pull yourself out of your self-destructive spiral for the sake of the mission-"

"THE MISSION?" Barry didn't register his volume but Davenport's face showed his shock. "THE MISSION'S OVER! We can't get home, we outran the Hunger, we did it! There is no mission anymore!"

Davenport took a deep breath. "Ok, then. How about for Lup?"

"LUP'S GONE!" The silence extended beyond the room, the entire ship was silent, as if everyone was listening in. "Dav, I have to find her." 

"You can't do it like this."

That didn't stop Barry from trying. He was trying something different now. If Lup hadn't come back yet, she might be stuck as a lich without a body. And, lucky for both of them, his Relic would allow her to have a new body. He just had to go and get it. 

Taako walked into the room, stepping past crumbled paper and spilled inkwells and dirty mugs. "How's it going?"

Barry's head jerked up from where he had nodded off. He wiped away some drool that had formed. "Oh sorry, I- sorry, so, um, anyway, there’s a… there's a dungeon out beyond the Felicity Wilds? It's a… subterranean… demonic keep… thing. There’s a bunch of arcane energy coming off of it. I was gonna check it out tonight, if you wanna come with."

Taako looked at him with such pity but Barry tried his best to ignore it. "Yeah, where were- where were- remind me, how far is that in relation to the last glassing?"

Barry pointed to a spot. It was far from the last glassing, closer to some of the previous ones. He knew it was a stretch, but he couldn't tell Taako his real reason, not yet. There hadn't been a glassing in months, so it was fine to work back a ways, right? "I've triangulated it here."

Taako shrugged, buying it for at least the moment. "Yeah, it seems like a good a place as any. Do you want to do the usual: I’ll go down and start casting around, see if I can pick up anything, and then- you start talking to folks?"

Barry nodded, but he couldn't fight the ever-growing feeling that it was useless, this was all useless. She was dead somewhere, or started a new life or something. She was gone. He just had to accept that. "Taako, what if she's just gone?"

"Who?"

The floor fell out from under him. He was missing something, he was doing something. He had to remember something but there was something else in the way. It was all fading and dusty and as he looked at the map, he couldn't remember what he had been looking for. "Ta-Taako, I'm-" Taako had to remember. He knew. He was supposed to know. 

"What if who's gone?" She looked like Taako, they looked like Taako? They looked like? He was grasping at memories that were fleeing from him. He looked at Taako and saw a stranger. What was his name again. Lup. 

"What are we…? Oh, god, Lup… Taako, I’m- I can’t remember her face, Taako. Taako, where-" Barry grabbed at the table, at his face. What was wrong with him? He was missing something big, something important. He couldn't live without it.

"Whose face?" And if Taako couldn't remember, then no one could. Not unless they were the Voidfish.

"Is this Fisher?" Not unless they were a lich. Barry's eyes snapped to Taako's wand. They were out of options. Out of time. He knew what had to happen. 

"Taako, k- kill me! Right now! I’ll- I’ll remember if I’m a lich, I can- please, Taako, just kill me! It’ll- I’ll be okay! I can’t forget, I’m, I’m, begging you, please, Taako! Please!" And then a bolt hit his chest. And another in his stomach. Barry staggered backward, his back hitting the railing hard. This was the end of everything. 

He saw Taako standing there, and for a moment he almost reached out, almost thought it was her. But then the static claimed that thought, and he was just a strange elf who had a look of panic and dread. Barry gave a thumbs up and a smile. It's all he could do. 

Consciousness was painful. It had been so long since he had last slept. There was wind rushing in his ears, in his hair, as he fell. He let go. 

#the lover #taz who #taz balance #fanfic snippet #taz spoilers

[crusherthedoctor]

What is your most controversial opinion involving each Sonic character?

Here are mine:

Sonic - Despite exhibiting some of the typical speedy snarker hero traits, he’s otherwise a lot more introverted and contemplative than that of the average take on said trope, which includes using his words conservatively. If Sonic is running his mouth off to no end, especially during serious or emotional moments, then the writer doesn’t truly get Sonic.

Tails - Reducing him to Sonic’s yes man does him a disservice and goes against the Adventure character development that I thought fans wanted to see more of.

Knuckles - His role as guardian is important, but he should be allowed to do things beyond how they relate to the Master Emerald or Angel Island.

Amy - I doubt they’d have a full-on ugly breakup, I’m sure they’d remain good friends, but ultimately I can’t see Sonamy working out in the long run.

Shadow - He’s not any more complicated than the other characters, despite his busier backstory. As such, the excuse that he’s too hard to write for is bullshit; the real issue is that writers try to fix what isn’t broken and make him over-emotional in order to appease people who are too attached to their warped perception of Shadow at the expense of the actual Shadow.

Rouge - If you think she’s a bad female character because she wears feminine clothing and “eww why did they give her boobs”, you’ve already missed the point.

Big - Big is simple. Not stupid. Know the difference.

Silver - Neither his canon portrayal nor the Stanley-approved caricature of him are that interesting.

Eggman - Him not having genuine moral standards does not make him one-dimensional (hypocrisy that serves his own ego doesn’t count). And his relationship with Sage is pointless no matter the execution because if it’s portrayed in an evil way, then Sage doesn’t offer anything that Metal Sonic or one of his other recurring robots couldn’t, whereas if it’s portrayed in a wholesome way, then it forces Eggman into an unfitting role out of a misplaced desire to make him more like Bowser.

Metal Sonic - Using his identity crisis to turn him into another forgettable usurper of many is a waste of a good concept. Exploring his delusion while keeping him fanatically loyal to Eggman would be a lot more fascinating and eerie.

Freedom Fighters - They don’t offer anything that isn’t already covered by certain members of the game cast, and when judging them as individual characters, they’re not that superior to the game cast either.

Scourge - He would still be an obnoxious character even if the parody handwave was actually true. Same goes for Vagina Scourge AKA Surge from IDW.

Black Doom - Greatest comic relief in the whole franchise.

#Opinion #Sonic the Hedgehog #Miles Tails Prower #Amy Rose #Knuckles the Echidna #Big the Cat #Shadow the Hedgehog #Rouge the Bat #Silver the Hedgehog #Freedom Fighters #Dr. Eggman #Metal Sonic #Black Doom #Scourge the Hedgehog

[cantstayawaycani]

Meeting Tenoch @ Comicpalooza Part One

Saturday May 27 - THE PANEL

Okay! ::cracks knuckles::

Let me tell you about my Saturday at Comicpalooza (we can skip Friday, nothing much was going on that day) …!

I didn’t go to the convention center until an hour before the panel was supposed to start, because I was getting ready and psyching myself out to wear the “Pretty Baby” shirt and the shoes. I was a ball of nerves and excitement. 

When I finally left my hotel room and got to the convention center, which, thankfully, was only a five minute walk from my hotel, I felt pretty good about everything. Still needed a little help though, so I stopped and got myself a double shot of vodka and cranberry juice to combat the butterflies in my tummy.

I found where we were supposed to go to line up for the panel, and got in line. Thankfully, I had decided to purchase the VIP pass and was going to be let in first so I could choose my seat! I was very happy, because I went straight to the front of the hall and sat right under the stage, right in front of where Tenoch and Dominique were going to be sitting.

Before the panel, I was in line with a few wonderful people. I had a kiki with a few Black women and some young Latina women who also stan Tenoch, and we talked and laughed a lot. At one point we all had a very loud, very friendly debate about who was right: Namor or Ramonda? We talked about what to say to Tenoch when we met him and what poses we wanted to ask for when we got our pictures taken. I was sipping on my Vodka cranberry and minute by minute I was relaxing.

When we got in, VIP went first, then the Speed Pass folks, then general admission. I at first thought the “reserved” seating at the very front was for press or talent guests, but the attendant said they were reserved for regular VIP. So scooted my behind to the front of the room and sat right where I would be seen!

We had been told there would be a QA after the panel so we could ask questions, but that turned out not to be the case. I had prepared a question for him that morning (another reason I took so long to leave my hotel room) and was disappointed I didn’t get to ask it. But we also could not take video or record audio (so they said) but could take pictures. I snapped a few pics, but didn’t dare do anything else. Also, I was too engrossed in what was being said by Dominique and Tenoch.

The moderator came out and asked how many times we have seen the movie. I said very loudly “15 times,” and she seemed impressed! When she introduced Dominique and Tenoch, she said to them before they sat down “This lady (she points to me) has seen the movie 15 times!” And Tenoch looks at me and he goes “Oh!” surprised and he and Dominique clap and laughed. I thought that was great! He looked me in my eyes, I waved VERY enthusiastically back at him with a HUGE grin on my face, and that was how we started the panel! 

When he sat down I saw him look at my backpack which is clear and he saw his book in my backpack. I wanted him to see it, so I made sure to position it so that it was in full view of the stage.  He did not say anything but he looked me in my eyes again and smiled! I'm sitting in the front row with my legs crossed with these shoes on, and I feel great because, like I said I had liquid courage!

The panel was amazing! The moderator asked very good questions, and Dominique was giving very good, detailed answers. She talked about her experiences in academia. She talked about how she related to her character Riri/Ironheart, and the preparations she did for filming and the advice that she would give to young people looking to make it in the industry. 

Tenoch was also talking about how he connected to his character Namor, which was through the script and Ryan Cougler's words that he was given to say and to perform. He talked about connecting to the character through Mayan/Indigenous heritage. He mentioned that he helped to find scholars to do that research and to connect the script and the characters to the actual real world existence of the Mayan people.

And he talked about the fact that the Mayan people are still alive; that they are here today, and exist as human beings, not aliens or mutants. He said that it was an insult to say that aliens built the pyramids because we all know it was Brown people who did that from Aztec to Maya to Egypt: it was people of color who built the pyramids! He also said Jesus was Black!

His message was as it always is: to tell Brown people “there is nothing wrong with you, there was something wrong with the eyes of the people who were looking at you and judging you”. 

He also told us what he did to keep himself focused on his passion: "Never give up. If this is for you, if you are passionate about this and you are happy to do it even when things look like there is no hope, just keep going." He kept repeating that: "keep going, keep going, keep going!" If acting is not for you, don't do it but if you know it's for you, keep going!

What I thought was cute was that the moderator asked Dominique and Tenoch to exchange anecdotes about what they learned from one another on set. Dominique said she learned from Tenoch to be confident in who you are as a person, where you come from, your background, and your culture. He taught her to be curious and to ask questions and to be bold enough to make suggestions because you have that knowledge and you want to contribute creatively. 

What Tenoch said he learned from Dominique is that she had an amazing work ethic and that she showed up every day and she was like a soldier; that she showed up always prepared, and she worked hard, and she never complained.

He talked about his daughters! He told a story about bringing one of his daughters to set and about how she was confused by his stunt double!

He said he was doing her hair and she was watching his stunt double and someone asked her “where's your dad?” and she pointed to the stunt double! Tenoch was like “Eh? I'm right here doing your hair, hello! That's not me!” 

Everybody laughed and I just thought it was the sweetest!

Then at the end, the moderator asked Tenoch a question in Spanish. 

I am still learning Spanish, so I could only understand bits and pieces of what they were saying but I didn't understand fully so if anyone recorded that or can remember it and understand Spanish or speak Spanish (I'm sure somebody will post what he said) please do!

All I know is, as soon as he started talking, I said “He’s gonna make us cry!” And sure enough, he's talking and some of what he said in English before this answer was: “I just want to let the children especially know that there is nothing wrong with them, that they are Beautiful, that they matter, because when I was a kid I was invisible I was treated less than and I was told that I was not going anywhere and and nothing was going to happen to me or for me,” and so I can imagine he said something along those lines but deeper in Spanish.

I was sitting in a row with a few Latino men, and it's so funny because when Tenoch came out, he pointed to one of the men and was like “That guy's from my neighborhood!” and everybody laughed. They cheered so loud when he was finished speaking.

There was also a Latina woman who was a photographer for the event, and she was on her knees in front of the stage, she had a huge camera in her hands and she was taking photos. I looked at her nails when she was on the floor and I complimented her because they were really pretty and she complimented my nails. She said she did her nails herself; they were this really colorful flower pattern.

By the time Tenoch was finished talking, I could hear sniffling next to me and I looked over at the woman who was taking the photos for the event, and there were tears streaming down her face! So I just reached over and I rubbed her shoulder and I rubbed her back and I asked if she was OK and she said yes. She was emotional, but happy and proud I could tell.

And I looked at Tenoch, and he looked at me. He looked at the Latino men in the front who were sitting next to me and I don't know if he saw the photographer crying or not but I hope he did because that is the effect that he had on the people in the room!

Dominic was great and we were all clapping and cheering for her!

But something about the way Tenoch speaks just commands attention, and he commands respect, and he gets very emotional reactions out of people. We were all so emotional just at the end of this panel and I know when I was seeing this Latina woman on her knees crying at what he was saying, it just makes me understand the depth of the impact his visibility has on his community and culture. I respect him so much.

So that’s the panel! Photo op up next!

#tenoch huerta #tenoch huerta mejia #comicpalooza #text post #long post #long text post #meeting tenoch

[fandomfluffandfuck]

1940's just-serumed-Steve with his hair trigger is transported to post-engame (where Steve came home and is living happily with Bucky.) Steve-and-Bucky's home, and it doesn't take long for Bucky to realize he's got his wonderful Sub in the two best states he's ever been. With a hair trigger, and always hard and ready to go, and well trained, with his hypnosis triggers (soft, hard, cum on command) and he can't resist the idea of getting to play with them both at the same time. -🐍

related to this, and this

This is trouble 😏 Double trouble. Literally.

With this in mind, I immediately had one idea that I will gladly expound upon:

40s Steve is still unaware of his own strength and nervous about breaking anything. He's also generally nervous about, well, everything. He wants to touch, but he doesn't know how anymore. Second guessing everything. He's desperate to get off, but once he starts, he can't stop--literally, he can't stop himself. He'll jerk himself raw. Until he's run out of semen, cumming dry, and is crying. Yet, he can't stop! It hurts, but the itch is still there. It never goes away now.

Bucky has an idea of how to calm younger Steve...

And younger Steve--still a little unsure that he's not having some serum side effect, some hallucination or something caused by whatever it was that was injected into him--goes along with it very willingly. Offering himself up for whatever they ]meaning the older version of himself, yeah, what, and an older Bucky with a prosthetic arm] might want to do with him.

Bucky wants to use some of the custom restraints they've had made in the future on him. Silky feeling black rope with vibranium weaved into it so Steve can't rip out of it like paper and a spreader bar with vibranium in the leather and the metal, preventing any tearing or bending when it's in position.

Younger Steve moves like a doll, easily going along with it all, eyes open wide to take everything in yet turned dark by his interest. He's naked. Fully naked. Exposed to two sets of eyes. Familiar and new at the same time.

First, Bucky situates younger Steve. He places him by the end of the bed, placing his hands behind his back and folding his legs up underneath him. Behind his back, he ties his wrists together, making cuffs from the rope, and then has him hold onto the wooden footboard; he can lean back on it for support if he likes. He doesn't have to stay straight up--he just has to keep watching. His legs get tied, too. Thighs to ankles. Then, the spreader bar is adjusted and placed between his thighs, keeping them wide, wide open.

After he's all dolled up and situated just so, Bucky turns his attention to his Steve. Current Steve.

Steve that can operate on whatever command Bucky wishes. Hard. Soft. Cum.

Anything.

Bucky puts his Steve against the high headboard, facing the younger version of himself at the foot of the bed. He doesn't bother tying his Steve up at all. He'll be good without restraints. Off to his left side, Bucky places himself. That way, he knows freshly serumed Steve will have the best angle of the show.

He'll see every pornographic detail.

Then--

Young Steve is forced to sit and watch and pant and drool and gape, unbelieving, as Bucky plays modern Steve like a damn instrument.

Bucky commands modern Steve to be hard, and his body obeys despite just moments before, only having been halfway there. He throbs. Entirely hard.

Younger Steve was already fully there, just the setup is enough to give him a stiffy--and an aching one at that. He's nowhere near as controlled or as well-fucked as his older self.

Bucky toys with his Steve for the benefit of their guest. Younger Steve. He just wants to show him his future. The future where his body is at beckon and call of Bucky and only Bucky. Is that a crime?

Bucky toys with him. Jerking his Steve off until he's on edge, about to spill over his knuckles--his peak hard, hot, and satisfying--only to tell him he can't. Each and every time, Steve whimpers through the quakes of denial. But, it felt so good! He just--he wants to cum! Why does it have to stop!?

Bucky doesn't reveal the show stopper just yet, so instead of forcing Steve to go soft, he tells him, inarguable, to hold off. Not yet. He can't cum yet. Why? Because he said so. Steve's body listens to Bucky.

Just when Bucky knows he's no longer in danger of shooting off--on razor's edge--he goes back to it mercilessly.

Jerking him off. Not yet. Jerking him off. Not yet. Jerking him off.

Not yet.

Within just a few rotations of cruel denial, Steve is wet enough to make obscene sounds. Leaking. Dribbling. Slippery in Bucky's tight, unforgiving grasp. The silver metal of his hand glints just that little bit more in the low lighting of their bedroom. All of Steve's overflowing pre-cum is dripping down his thick fingers to his palm, even farther, too, to his wrist. Steve cries out, begging for permission to cum.

Not yet.

While his Steve's is fighting to gather his breath, Bucky shoves his metal fingers into his mouth. His mouth might be just as slick as his cock with how he's begun to drool. Bitten, swollen lips unable to stay shut and keep all his excess spit in his mouth where it belongs.

He slurps at Bucky's fingers.

Oh, fuck.

Steve, young Steve, pulls at his restraints so hard that he feels it through his whole body. His muscles are straining. He wants.

He's not--

He doesn't know what those metal fingers taste like, but he wants to. More than anything, he wants to know if they have a metallic tang. He wants to know how they taste without traces of himself (?) and with. Metallic and briny. Erotic, flexing with a mechanical whirring. Shoving deep into his throat until he chokes.

Gags.

He wants to drool as a result of those fingers working him over, too.

Young Steve makes a noise he's never heard come out of himself. A sound he didn't know he could make.

Please.

He feels desperate. Left out in a way that's not lonely (and not really true) but is devasting. He wants a taste! He wants a turn to be edged, even if it probably hurts like hell. He can tell from how his older self's cock has gone so, so red at the tip that it's practically purple.

Hell.

He's so hard.

Younger Steve watches the way his poor, tortured cock flexes as he's denied. Twitching.

"Don't hurt yourself over there, sweetheart," Bucky smiles filthily at him, referring to how he's kept squirming, tugging and straining.

It would feel like heaven just to be able to press his thighs together and get any pressure on his dick. Any friction. Anything.

He wants.

Please.

Younger Steve hoarsely moans while his counterpart fights the pleasure of having his cock stroked even more, groaning, twisting around. Much more free to move than young Steve. Unfair. He's sputtering as if he's trying to find the words to beg for his orgasm but he can't.

Not yet.

Bucky leaves Steve's heavy, throbbing cock alone for a few turns, turning his devilish attention to the hard points of Steve's nipples. Flicking them. Making him jolt. Pinching them. Making him keen. Twisting them. Making him cry out and arch away from the sensation. The sweet torture.

Not yet.

Younger Steve can practically feel the heat radiating off of Bucky's Steve. It's so thick in the air. Palpable.

Still, Steve gets even wetter. His cock throbs with his drum-beat pulse.

Younger Steve can see it from across the bed--a big, fat pearl of pre-cum beading up at the slit of his dick and rolling down his thick, veined shaft with a violent twitch. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip. The taste of copper floods his mouth.

"Please-!"

Young Steve doesn't even know which one of them it comes out of. Himself? Older Steve? Both of them? At once, connected in denial?

"Please, what?" Bucky taunts, getting high off of this, "please let you get off?" His Steve whimpers urgently. "Nu-uh," he sasses, "there's no way I'm letting you, baby, I haven't gotten mine yet!"

Younger Steve can hardly breathe. They're hypnotic together. The chemistry is explosive. Dangerous.

"You wanna help me get mine? Then, maybe, if you help me, I'll think about letting you get yours..."

Bucky's Steve nods so urgently, so frantically that it'd be funny if younger Steve weren't breathing the same humid, intoxicating air.

It just keeps getting hotter.

"Okay, okay, fine--" even Bucky isn't immune to it.

Cutting loose, Bucky preps himself. Quickly and efficiently, no longer willing to wait. Opening himself up with his slick metal fingers, Bucky both uses some lube and moslty the obscene amount of wetness that's spilled from his Steve. He preens in their undivided attention. The past and present Steve. The loves of his life. Moaning, rolling his hips filthily--Bucky is poetry in motion.

Younger Steve continues to be unable to breathe. He has no idea how he's still surviving. He's dying.

He's dying.

Because Bucky suddenly throws a leg over his Steve's lap. Straddling him. Not yet sitting, instead hovering, teasing, so, so close to where they all want him to be.

He leans forward, he whispers, just loud enough for younger Steve to hear as he orders his Steve to go soft. With Bucky hovering above his lap just enough--

Younger Steve gets to watch older Steve's erection wilt.

He goes soft.

Like it's nothing.

Again, on the same elective wavelength, both Steves sob.

The hotness melts Steve entirely. How can he do anything but succumb to this moment, lost in this real-life fantasy? Better than porn. This is...

It's unbelievable.

There isn't a word for how fucking outrageously erotic this is. Watching.

Only able to look, not to touch because truly, for the first time since he got the serum, he is unable to move.

"Now, baby," Bucky scolds his Steve, pulling back from marking up his vulnerable throat with a gorgeous, terrifying grin on his face, "how am I supposed to have mine when you can't keep it up?"

Young Steve can feel the whine that is kicked out of the other Steve's chest, it's so intense.

Fuck.

Hanging by a thread.

Steve is hanging by a thread. The tiniest little thread.

"How am I supposed to ever let you cum? You can't get me there. So, why should I get you there?" As he says it, he's evil--he's evilly grinding his own hard dick and wet, open hole against his Steve's still soft cock. Torturing him. Fucking torturing him. Look at what you can't have. Feel what you can't have.

Steve whimpers like... like he's dying.

And Younger Steve supposes he is. He knows he's dying, and he hasn't even been touched. He hasn't even been commanded to go soft! Fuck, he can't imagine what that does to a fella's brain. It must destroy it. It must feel like fucking insanity. Oh, God. It hits Steve like a tsunami. Oh, God, he's gonna feel that. One day, that'll be him! Oh, fuck, he's going to let his Bucky do that to him. He's gonna. He's gonna and it's--

Why does he want it so bad?

It sounds like it must hurt so much, and yet...

Younger Steve is drooling thinking about it.

Please.

It's on the tip of his tongue to beg for Bucky to do to him whatever he did to his Steve. Now. He wants to be like that now. He wants his future now.

Please. Please. Please.

Younger Steve's desperate, urgent, fucking dire needs are stripped away from him in a single moment when Bucky suddenly turns his irresistible grin on him. Not on his Steve.

Oh.

His stomach flips, already tied in impossible knots. Despite the forest fire inside him, he is frozen in place under that branding stare.

He's chuckling at him.

What?

What?

Oh.

Without even realizing it, Steve has shattered the solid wood in his hands where they're restrained behind his back. Fuck, this new strength--

He can't--

He can't control himself.

And he just proves to himself that he really, really, really can't control himself when, in a few short minutes that actually feel like decades, Bucky orders his Steve to get hard again and he does. And Bucky slides down onto his hard cock. Unbothered. Letting out on long, low moan. Stuffed full. Breathlessly commanding Steve not to cum. His Steve clings to him. But he listens. And, and, and--

God.

The idea of that happening to himself--to younger Steve at any fucking point in his fucking life is so fucking delicious that his orgasm takes his knees out from under him. He fights his bonds, eyes rolling to the back of his head, his ears ringing, his whole nervous system whiting out. Burning unbearably hot. Overtaking him.

Please.

Let that be him, please.

In conclusion:

#asks #🐍 anon #fandomfluffandfuck #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #selfcest

[ineffably-human]

[cracks knuckles]

Okay, the bones of a decent episode were there inside Hybrid Creatures. They were. I saw them and I believe in them. Let's fix this shit.

(Hearts to @abc-mulan @yougoadedme @drowningparty @de-ciphered and anyone else I forgot who helped make this even better when I was rambling about it.)

First off: Nadja!

Nadja is not teaching the class, because she disappeared from the teaching plot into a completely different plot and that's a first draft problem. She should just meet Helen and start from there.

Here's a problem with Nadja this whole season: does this hex even exist? It's the motivation for everything she does, but we've never seen it do anything to impact her. Everything she cited as evidence of the hex were things she brought on herself last year, and nothing bad has happened to her specifically this year. I'd think it was something she made up/the Guide encouraged, but the Guide had infinitely regenerating props when they found that portrait, and she doesn't know anything about Antipaxos, so it'd be a lot for her to fake. The show should have made clear from episode 1 this season: either the hex is fake and being set up by the Guide/the doll/whoever else to teach Nadja a lesson, OR the hex is real and is visibly impacting Nadja the whole time.

So: Nadja meets Helen in Little Antipaxos. No one wants to talk about her and Nadja assumes it's because she's a super-powerful witch. Whatever stupid errands Helen has her do are a lot more fake-mystical and actually raise the question of whether she has powers.

Also, the Guide is actually there at some point! And either the Nadja-Helen parallels are clear from Nadja ignoring the Guide/taking her for granted, or the Guide is basically trying to tell Nadja that this lady is conning her because there is no curse, the Guide/the doll/whoever made the curse up, but Nadja isn't listening to her.

Helen is as difficult and demanding as Nadja can be on her worst days, and Helen also has a lot of Nadja's insecurities about being an outsider and not taken seriously. Let the twist be that Helen was previously banned/shunned at the diner, as the black sheep of that family or group of friends. Nadja ultimately gets Helen back into the diner and into everyone's good graces. Basically Nadja restores Helen in a way that actually matters and it's a much clearer parallel, from much earlier on, that she sees a lot of Helen in herself.

This will tie thematically into: Guillermo!

Guillermo's shitty little children are horrifying! I love-hate them! What the fuck is the point of them? Most people wanted them to die because they feel like gags, and if they talk then they should feel at least a little bit like characters, they come from Guillermo.

They should each represent a different piece of him. His loyalty, his determination, how he's a secret freak, it doesn't even all have to be appealing or a perfect Guillermo match - just let me see their personalities. Let Guillermo move from horror to getting attached to them by relating to them. The general theme should be something about surprising yourself/finding out new pieces of yourself.

Also the little rat thing should try and hump Nandor's leg.

When Guillermo gets rid of them by making them companion animals in a retirement home, there should be a gag about how now they're all emotional support creatures for cranky out-of-touch people, something something vampires. (Also, we do not need the fish. Let the animal that stays around be one of the frogs, you already made us all in love with the frogs last week, ffs.)

Finally: Colin and Nandor are actually pretty great a lot of the time, but it also needs a focus shift. Have Nandor puttering around the house aimlessly, missing Guillermo as usual. He trails Colin Robinson to his new job teaching night classes. He tries to take over the class to have someone to boss around, they do their at-odds things, maybe Nandor is trying to teach military history in general instead of just his home country because that seems a little on the nose?

Then you extend the museum scene, because goddamnit I want more Nandor lore, and maybe make it so Nadja and Laszlo's shit is in the museum too (since the three of them crossed together) but Nandor focuses on his own. Either way, Colin does what he does for Nandor, and the emotional payoff is that over the last two episodes, Nandor and Colin have started a legitimate friendship and Nandor doesn't have to feel as alone anymore.

(But it's not quite the same, of course, and at some point in the episode Nandor notices one of the Guillermo frogs with the hair or something - and comments that he must be losing it because he's seeing Guillermo all over the place.)

Also all the jokes needed a punch-up, some of them were amazing and some of them were just weak and whatever.

Tl;dr not every subplot in the shit and fart show needs to have meaning or progress the will-they-won't-they or whatever. But there should at least be a reason the characters are doing what they're doing, and a reason we the people watching should actually give a shit.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk, and I hope post-strike everyone can have writers' rooms again where they can actually get to draft 3 or 4, and not make everyone watching the episode confused about what they just watched. The end!

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #fandom: wwdits #i am a meta gremlin

[themculibrary]

BAMF! Peter Parker Masterlist

a terribly real thing (ao3) - idyllic_dae T, 6k

Summary: What even happened? As he searches his memories, he discovers that there’s nothing there that relates to his current predicament. The last thing he can recall is coming home from school on a Wednesday. After that… Nothing. No reasons as to why he fell asleep in a puddle, which is disconcerting.

He exhales shakily, then tries to think about this logically. What does somebody do when they find themselves inexplicably in the middle of the forest?

Blood and Bone (ao3) - deadvinesandfanfics pepper/tony M, 40k

Summary: Peter… wasn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten here.

The room was dark, and silent, except for the repetitive thump-thump of a heartbeat from somewhere beside him. It sounded like Mr Stark’s arc reactor, with a soft tick accompanying every second beat: that, and the smell of motor oil and fancy cologne.

His head throbs, and his muscles ache. He feels like he’s just lost a fight with a brick wall, or several. There’s crusted blood on his upper lip as well as his temple. He can feel it matted in his hair, and he wants nothing more than to take a shower right now.

Looking around a little more, Peter realises that he doesn’t even know where they are. The room is nearly pitch black which makes it impossible to make anything out. He thinks he’s tied to some sort of cheap plastic chair; his hands are bound behind his back with a mess of rope and some thin metal handcuffs - so he assumes his identity is safe. No way whoever this was would leave him in just metal handcuffs if they knew he had his powers.

Then, a huff of noise off to his side.

“Mr Stark,” he blurts, panicked. “I think we might’ve been kidnapped.”

Desperate Measures (ao3) - blondsak, seekrest mj/peter T, 13k

Summary: Waking up in the medbay, groggy and weak but otherwise okay, Tony instantly realizes two things.

First, that he should almost certainly be dead—yet he isn’t.

And second, that Peter isn’t here—even though Tony knows there is nothing in the world that could have stopped him, not when Michelle had been hurt too.

At least, nothing short of his own death… or something far too close for comfort to it.

With growing dread Tony lifts his head to stare at Michelle who stares right back, her expression as grave as he’s ever seen it.

“What did he do?”

Fifty-Two Hours (ao3) - Eccentric_Grace T, 5k

Summary: "What did you do?" Tony asked blankly, staring at Ross with something incomprehensible, unholy, monstrous under his skin. "What the hell did you do to him?"

He looked over the kid again, feeling bile in his throat. Peter's knuckles were scraped and bruised and bloody red– he put up a fight, there wasn't a doubt about it.

'Please keep fighting,' he thought. 'C'mon, kiddo. We'll make it out of here. I'll fix it.'

or: tony and peter get kidnapped. tony tries his best to keep calm.

Five Times Tony Tries To Protect Peter (ao3) - Anonymous T, 12k

Summary: “I’m literally a superhero!”

Plus one time where Peter saves them all.

he gives his heart to strangers (ao3) - TheRoomWhereItHappened347 G, 10k

Summary: Peter loved New York, he really did, but there were many days when he doubted saving its citizens were worth it.

People needed saving but their pride stopped them from thanking him, or JJJ's scathing reports placed perceptions in their heads that weren't true. Thankfully, there were days when some people made all his suffering worth it.

Alternatively: 5 times Peter Parker saves New Yorkers and 1 time they save him.

it's always who is spider-man, never how is spider-man (ao3) - i_regret_thatpersonalityquiz harley/peter, wanda/vision, pepper/tony T, 176k

Summary: "Stay?"

Peter finally looked down to see Harley Fucking Keener, Iron Lad, the boy who had caused his shoulder to be throbbing in pain all night, looking away with a slight tint to his cheeks. Peter opened and closed his mouth, no sound coming out.

And he sat back down.

OR: Peter had been living on the streets, dealing with your average homeless vigilante stuff. Things got a bit more complicated when the Avengers started to chase him down.

i wake up to the cold reality (and not a thing has changed) (ao3) - im_your_mom_now T, 49k

Summary: Tony paused mid-sentence, eyes darting to the crowd. Everyone's heads were turning left and right with confusion, wondering who the hell would boo Iron Man. He continued, "To international concerns over unsanctioned actions and consequences by—"

"This guy sucks!"

"—enhanced individuals and members of the Avengers to create a system of accounta—"

"Show us your tits!"

"Okay, who the hell—" Tony gave up and lifted a hand above his eyes, blocking the light to see the crowd better. His eyes scanned each person's face, trying to locate the shit that kept interrupting his speech, and followed everyone's gazes to the ceiling. He froze as his eyes fell on a red and blue clad vigilante sitting in the beams.

Spider-Man looped his legs around the beam he was on and swung to hang upside down. Cupping his gloved hands around his mouth, he shouted, "Tell a joke!"

_

OR: The Accords dehumanize and discriminate against enhanced individuals. Spider-Man isn’t very happy about this. (Spider-Man happens to also be a foster kid who is in dire need of a mentor.)

let's see how far you've come (ao3) - Stackthedeck T, 6k

Summary: “Do I look like a kid to you?” Peter interrupts.

Tony scans over Peter’s eyebags and stress gray hairs and the work bag he still hasn’t shrugged off because he has to be somewhere in an hour. He flinches at the scars on his face, the bruise on his cheek instead, his gaze lingers on his hands, strong and calloused, with grime under the nails.

“No,” Tony says, “no, you don’t.”

“I’ve been doing this a long time,” Peter says, “longer than you, longer than the Avengers, long enough to stop counting the years.”

(The Veteran hero Peter Parker Civil War rewrite no one asked for!)

lies do not become us (ao3) - graye T, 13k

Summary: Following the trip to Europe Peter is having nightmares. Which is normal, except they're different. Instead of abstract versions of what happened things are suddenly lucid; he's been essentially re-living past traumas for months, and the dreams don't even touch on what happened in Europe. It isn't until Beck finally makes an appearance in one of these nightmares that Peter realizes maybe there's more unfinished business than he thought.

-

His breaths quickened, it was getting harder for air to get in. In and out. Breaths by the sixes—

Wet hands. He had fallen in a puddle. He looked into the water and his reflection was changed. He was Spider-man now. The original one, the one Tony made fun of. Underoos. It was covered in blood. Torn and battered. The blood wasn’t his.

No. No no no no no—

Thick green smoke rose from the ground. It masked everything and he could only see a few feet in front of him. The sky was gone. Only the graves and him were left. Alone. He whipped his head around. Left and right. Nothing. His breathing turned ragged. There was nothing behind him either. He turned his head back and—

He was there.

Peter Parker's Home for the Wayward Villain (ao3) - BeanieBaby peter/wade, steve/bucky, pepper/tony T, 90k

Summary: A really long redemption story.

The Imposter (ao3) - multiworlds111 tony/pepper N/R, 5k

Summary: Tony and Pepper had traveled into the city for a few emergency meetings, but they promised they’d be back for dinner and left Happy in charge. Peter can’t find him, though, and he was just sitting on the porch and frowning a few moments before. As the tingle grows stronger, Peter feels adrenaline flood his system, along with a fair amount of fear. There is something foreboding about the soft sway of the branches in the breeze.

OR: Peter and Morgan are playing in the front yard when something triggers Peter's Spidey sense.

The Devouring Storm (ao3) - blondsak, mysterycyclone mj/peter, ned/flash T, 98k

Summary: The city is unusually quiet tonight. Oh, sure, he’s had his usual crimes: muggings, drug deals, a few break ins. Nothing special. Nothing that could possibly explain the thread of tension winding through him, slowly tightening like a noose. Ever since last night, his spidey senses have set off at a low, maddening hum, distracting him, needling him, filling him with a restless energy that’s robbed him of restful sleep. He’s used to dealing with his super powered anxiety, but this feels different somehow. More ominous. And what’s weirder is that other people seem to be a little more wary, a little more on edge than usual, too. Cops, firefighters, even one of the guys Peter caught snatching a purse commented on it from his web cocoon on a street light.

“You feel that, Spidey? The city’s all weird tonight. Feels like the whole place is holding its breath, waiting on something.”

the most chaotic of kidnappings (ao3) - OnlyForward G, 5k

Summary: a group of kidnappers decide to kidnap peter parker stark, the heir to stark industries, because he’s only a child and can't do them any harm. they are, naturally, extremely wrong.

feat. nicknames, badass peter and a healthy dose of scaring the hell out of everyone who cares about him.

tldr: don’t kidnap peter parker stark. this is why.

those bambi eyes (ao3) - WhyShouldEye T, 12k

Summary: The struggle was real when it came to keeping a secret identity. Especially when the identity was kept from a group of superheroes made up of a retired agent, a retired assassin, a retired super-assassin, a super soldier, a couple military men, some geniuses and a literal god.

Peter thought he would be able to keep his name and face away from the spotlight until he was at least old enough to drink. He hoped that his Parker Luck would hold out until his twenty-first birthday, maybe even past that. But a villain crawling out of the woodwork and a couple of life-threatening injuries were quick to change his plans.

Hopefully, he could just flash those Bambi eyes and get it over with.

Under the Impression (ao3) - Assayist T, 26k

Summary: Fourteen years old looks a lot different in person than it does on paper.

When he actually meets the kid behind the Spider-Man mask, Tony Stark starts to doubt. Can he really drag a kid into the dangerous world of professional superheroes? Even if it might be their only chance to save Captain America & Co.?

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #peter parker #masterlists #bamf!peter parker #bamf!peter parker masterlist