#Large god statues

[supportsatvik]

Bring Home Divine Blessings with Exquisite Large God Statues

A large God statue is more than just a decorative piece—it holds deep spiritual significance and enhances the sacred aura of any space. Whether placed in a home temple, meditation room, or public shrine, these statues bring divine blessings, serenity, and positive energy. The grandeur of a large brass God idol represents devotion, making it a cherished addition for spiritual seekers and collectors alike.

Why Choose a Large God Statue for Your Home or Temple?

1. Symbol of Faith and Devotion

A large God statue serves as a constant reminder of divine presence, fostering a deep spiritual connection in daily life. Whether you seek guidance, peace, or strength, the presence of a deity idol helps create a positive and devotional environment.

2. Perfect for Temples and Home Worship

Many people prefer large brass idols for temples and personal prayer rooms, as they represent grandeur and devotion. A beautifully crafted idol enhances the sanctity of the space and invites divine blessings into your home.

3. Exquisite Craftsmanship and Timeless Beauty

Brass is a preferred material for religious idols due to its durability and timeless aesthetic. Intricately designed large God statues feature fine carvings and spiritual symbolism, making them not only a divine presence but also a piece of art.

Which Deity Statue Should You Choose?

Lord Ganesha – The remover of obstacles, bringing wisdom and success.

Lord Shiva – Symbol of transformation and inner strength.

Goddess Lakshmi – Bestows wealth and prosperity.

Lord Krishna – Embodies love, devotion, and harmony.

Lord Vishnu – Ensures protection and balance in life.

Each large brass idol is crafted with precision, ensuring authenticity and spiritual significance.

Where to Buy the Best Large God Statues?

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Final Thoughts

A large God statue is a timeless addition to any sacred space, bringing divine blessings and positive energy. Whether for personal worship or temple placement, these magnificent idols reflect devotion and tradition.

✨ Explore the collection today at Satvik and bring home a beautifully crafted large brass idol that resonates with spirituality and faith.

[essektheylyss]

It is still deeply unclear to me what the outcome of this whole plan is, but it's going to be so funny to me if the gods all just become consecuted mortals who otherwise do regain their memories every lifetime. They're still probably as clever and charismatic and in some cases conniving as they were, just with less firepower. They're reliant on being near beacons if they want to be reborn. Half of them are fundamentally terrified of the concept of permanent death and they've got millennia of experience avoiding it. I give it forty years before there are like seven warring Luxon cults a la the Dynasty just wreaking havoc on Exandria in their obsessive quest for beacons. The Bright Queen suddenly goes from being a fringe theocrat with an overzealous missionary agenda to a paragon of restraint.

[the-crow-binary]

Not to be megalophobic, but. What the fuck is wrong with the creators of the bagger 293. What the fuck is wrong with the creators of those big ass boats that can hold thousands of people in them.

Just. Why would you built stuff so big like that I am CRYING. IT'S HORRIFYING. STOP.

[white-poppie]

Status upgrade ?! ⎯ ft. jjk men

feat ⎯ satoru, kento, suguru, sukuna 'n toji

synopsis ⎯ you accidentally refer to your boyfriend as 'husband' !

a/n ⎯ I was giggling the entire time writing this, also sukuna is not the king of curses here because I said so.

✶ ࣪˖ GOJO SATORU

You can't seem to be able to catch your breath with him, not enough air fills in your lungs as you stare at him with clenched fists and a taut jaw.

"What part of 'I didn't want you to take on that mission' did you not understand 'Toru?" you say, exasperated, your voice cracking in sheer frustration after having gone back and forth the same topic infinite times, all ending with 'you know I have to, it's not like I want to,' or something like that.

But you are tired, you really are, the kettle whistling cacophonically when the two of you finally found time for an intimate little movie night, interrupted by a call on his phone and then him subsequently teleporting away like it was nothing. Like you were a fool, feeling all giddy for just finally being able to spend time and woosh, he's gone.

"I'm sorry baby, you know I have no choice, there are people who depend on me." His pretty face crumpled in guilt and annoyance all the same. And every time he says this, it's like his way of shutting you off, because how do you even respond to people's lives being dependent on him?

Its too much, it really is too much sometimes. Somehow, all of these discussions end with you feeling like the douche.

"I hate when you do this," you choke, "I can't even have a little time with my husband now." It leaves and you don't even register it, but Satoru does.

He takes in a deep breath, his own throat in brambles while his heart stutters. A little slip off the tongue and it hits him harder than ever.

"Your husband?" he says, trying so desperately to not let his muscles twitch into a wide grin, but he can't help it. And so against the situation, his eyebrows soften down and little smile appears on his face.

There is a tender feeling in his chest that seizes his entire being, somehow, that one word makes all of it feel so tangible. Your concern, endearing then, seems heartfelt now. A sudden strike of accountability that perhaps stems from the little future he imagines within that few-second interval when you call him your 'husband.'

"Whatever," you bristle, annoyed, embarrassed at the slip of the tongue, turning around to walk away from him, before two muscular arms find their way on your waist and you freeze. His weight against your back, nose nuzzling into your shoulder, tufts of white hair tickling against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into your shoulder flesh, hot breathing fanning against the skin. His arms tighten around your waist as though holding your back from moving, to keep you planted as you are, in his arms, forever. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll say no, I promise I'll try to reject the missions I can." He whispers out, planting kisses against the expanse of your neck causing you to shiver against his broad frame.

You sigh deeply, hand coming to caress his face. "Okay," you breathe out.

"And as your husband — I should really stick to you like glue, yeah? More so if I wanna make it into reality," His large hand sprawls on your tummy and you can hear that damn smirk on his face.

Your cheeks turn red and you try desperately to backtrack, "It just slipped out of my mouth—"

"Yeah, yeah, as I was saying, do you prefer a pear-cut or a marquise-cut diamond?"

God he is so obnoxious.

✶ ࣪˖ NANAMI KENTO

You're sleepy, so damn sleepy that you could just fall into sleep the instant you find a surface to lay on.

"You look exhausted," Kento comments, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he looks at your weary form. You peer to look at him through the mirror on your vanity. He looks like a dream. His reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, a classic novella in his hands as he leans against the bedrest.

"Come here, love," he pats the space on the mattress, right beside him and you feet move before you can think, climbing onto the bed, you bury yourself against his side, curling in.

A soft smile graces his lips as he pulls you closer against his side with his free arm, his fingers carding through your hair.

"Tough day?"

"Mmh, it was so tiring," he nods at your reply, taking in a deep breath.

"Yeah? Tell me about it."

"Well for starters, I worked like a dog and then stayed for overtime, my favourite lipgloss finished and when I wanted to treat myself nice; they put too much sugar in my drink." You huff.

"Oh that sounds tiring," he murmurs, "why don't you get some sleep, hm? We can plan a little get-away this weekend." he whispered out, leaning over to keep his book and switch off the lights so they don't burn as sharply against your sleepy eyes.

When he settles back, he's met with a tender quirk of your lips, "You're amazing, Kento," you murmur, letting yourself be shifted carefully against him as he lays down from where he was sitting.

A deep, dulcet chuckle leaves him at that, "Really, what did I do?"

"Nothing, you just are perfect, the perfect husband a girl could ask for," it leaves your sleep-addled mouth before you can even comprehend it, and Kento freezes for just a second, his hand that was brushing your hair pauses in its tracks. On any random day he would have been flattered beyond words, but right now he is flattered and dumbfounded.

"Your husband?" he replies, trying his absolute best not to laugh and wake you up.

You blink, slowly as the realisation sets in and bury yourself against his chest in embarrassment. "Kentoooo" you groan out.

Nanami chuckles and shakes his at your embarrassed antics, utterly endeared, and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Why are you embarrassed, love? Its good you are already getting a habit of it, because it's not that distant of a future."

✶ ࣪˖ SUGURU GETO

The girls started calling you 'mom.' It happened slowly, gradually as you eased your way through the household.

Suguru was still 'Mister-Geto', but you were mom. That was enough for him, that meant everything, to watch the girls find solace in your presence.

A Sunday outing, one of the few rare days Suguru got free time from his cult and the way he spends it is to spend time with Nanako, Mimiko and you. You're seated at the girl's favourite restaurant, the girls on one side and the two of you on the other.

"I'll have a burger," Mimiko chimes "and fries."

"Why are you copying me? I said burger in the car first," Nanako looks at her with a sort of distressed expression.

"No but I thought of it before you said it."

"And I-I thought of it, yesterday."

And apparently they thought of the burger and fries the day before and the day before that, and the day before the day before...

"Girls, calm down," Suguru sighs with a soft chuckle, placing the menu down. "You can both get burger and fries."

"But do you really want to get the same thing everytime, there are other options on the menu too," you suggest, hoping to calm the tension down. "Like Chicken nuggets."

"I'll get Chicken nuggies." Nanako quickly suggests, earning a very obvious side eye from her twin. Suguru sighed, calling for the waiter at that.

"Uhmm, one chicken nuggets meal, a burger with fries and I'll have Aglio Olio and so will my husband." You mutter and the waiter nods, taking your order, and you are met with three curious, wide-eyed people back on your table. Suguru, Nanako, Mimiko; everyone's gaze stuck at you, making you very obviously aware of your blunder.

And for a second you wish you could melt into the seats.

"Are you married to already Mr Geto, mom?" Mimiko speaks out, slightly surprised and you can't help but groan in embarrassment at the innocent curiousity on her face.

"Not yet," Suguru breaks through the awkwardness, answering for you. His soft eyes reaching over to look at you, his fingers intertwining with yours under the table.

And you notice him share a glance with girls, as though a secretive pact you don't quite understand but they do.

"So we still need the rin⎯" Nanako tries to utter, to which Mimiko quickly places her hand on her mouth...yeah its going to be one interesting day.

✶ ࣪˖ SUKUNA

Sukuna has a staring problem and everyone notices it, including your coworkers at your 'stupid work-party' as Sukuna likes to call it. And he draws eyes, everywhere. Its hard to not notiuce him when he's towering everyone, standing in a corner all broody. He's eyeing everyone in the room, staring down at everyone who talks to you. If he were a dog, his damn ears would stiffen if he say anyone walking close to you.

"'Kuna, you are making people scared," you sigh at your boyfriend who's form fills the two piece suit like a damn glove, frankly you want to peel it off him, but that's a conversation for another time.

"Good," he mutter, sipping at the rum in in his glass, his hand slowly caressing the small of your back through your dress, his warmth anchoring you through the flurry of loud interactions.

"Is that woman who keeps bitching about her cheating husband instead of leaving him?" He mutters, languidly pointing of of the fingers of the hand that is holding his glass, a little too loud in your opinion.

"Sukuna!" you hiss to him, a warning, but he just shrugs and smirks, taking yet another sip.

"What, I'm just confirming all you 'tea' is about the right person."

You sigh, internally regretting bringing him as your plus one. your eyes land to your manager walking upto you and you immediately straighten up, putting on the corporate smile.

He walks up, raising an eyebrow towards Sukuna, before he looks expectantly at you for the introductions.

"Sukuna, this my manager, Mr Lim and Mr Lim, this is my husband, Sukuna." You introduce, and notice a bit too late Sukuna's grip around your waist tightens and you look upto with a nervous expression, realising how awkward it would be if he corrects you.

Instead, Sukuna smiles, extending his hand for a handshake "A pleasure."

Soon your manager leaves upon being called and youi feel Sukuna's warm breath on your ear, "Didn't know you were going around introducing me as your husband to people." He whispers.

"I-"

"No need, I like it, wife."

✶ ࣪˖ TOJI

Its three in the damn morning when Toji wakes upto the sound of vegetable chopping.He can't help but groan at the absence of your warmth on your side of the bed, reaching over to sling an arm, but he's met with the cold sheets instead of your sleeping form.

He decides against falling asleep again like an asshole and instead begrudgingly pads to the kitchen, barefoot, scratching his head. "Babe its four in the morning, why are chopping vegetables at this time?" he sighs with a yawn, his voice all sleep-addled and deep. Toji walks upto behind you, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms around your form.

"I was hungry, 'Ji," you murmur. "And craving ramen." You add before he could protest with, 'why didn't you just eat cup noodles?'

"You and your damn cravings," he snorts, watching you stir the mix before he peels himself off you and gets cup noodles.

You look up at him wuth a raised eyebrow, questioningly, wasn't he criticising your random cavings just a minute ago?

"What? Seeing you eat is making me hungry too," he grumbles, boiling water beside you.

"This is nice," you comment with a fond smile, stirring at the makeshift recipe of instant noodles and veggies.

"What is?"

"Just this, cooking together...well not really cooking, but sort of spending time together like this with my husband⎯" You say without paying much attention and do a double take, slowly you turm your head towards Toji to see his reaction and to your surprise he smiles, a soft smile on his face as he watches the water boil.

"Yeah, I like it," he replies, his tone betraying a hint of fondness. "Maybe even as a forever sort of a thing."

Masterlist ⎯ 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

⟢ Get added to: Permanent Taglist 

[princessbellecerise]

Unlikely Places

Summary ✩ The unusual place your hotd lover likes to fuck you

Warnings ✩ Smut, straight up blasphemy (Aegon), semi-public sex

Jacaerys Velaryon

As the King, it’s not exactly wrong for the two of you to do it, but it does feel taboo every time you ride him on the Iron Throne

Every time you climbed on his lap, mindful of all the sharp points and swords, you couldn’t help but think that you’re breaking some kind of rule that doesn’t exist. After all, Jacaerys is the King and technically it is his seat. As the most powerful man in the realm, there’s no one for you to answer to after doing such an act but it certainly feels like you should

The first time that he asked you to do it, you thought that he was crazy. It was so unlike Jacaerys to do something so…risky, that you genuinely thought it was a prank at first

Only when realized you that your husband was completely serious did you really start to consider it

And you had to admit, the rush of power that you got as you bounced on your husband’s cock, riding the most powerful man in the most powerful seat in the realm was nothing like you’d ever experienced before

It quickly became your guilty pleasure to do so, never minding when Jacaerys summoned you to the throne room at such late hours

For you knew what awaited you when you climbed those steps, and each time you were filled with delicious anticipation to do it all over again

Aemond Targaryen

Ever since he was a child, Aemond had been absolutely fascinated by dragons

His obsession with those beasts was almost unnatural as his mother used to say, and you were quite inclined to agree as one day, Aemond tried to convince you to let him fuck you on top of Vhagar

Of course, the request had been so ridiculous that you genuinely thought your husband to be ill at first, maybe having contracted some disease during his many travels

Only when you saw Aemond’s confident smirk did you realize that it was indeed not a jest, and your husband really did want you to ride him on top of a fucking dragon

So there you were, thousands of feet in the air and praying that you didn’t fall as you straddled Aemond’s lap

You held onto him tight as your cunt sank down, your hips moving with his in the large saddle

Every kiss, every touch was concealed within the clouds, Vhagar flying steady while you rode your husband. The sound of her wings masked the pathetic way you cried for Aemond, filthy praises and words of encouragement being whispered in your ears as you soared across the skies

Aegon Targaryen

Aegon figures that if he’s going to hell anyways, he may as well have a little fun in his mortal life

What’s life without a little risk anyways, he figures. This is why he has no problem fucking you in the Sept of Seven, having you on your knees, naked in front of the statue of the Mother

Instead of praying to her though, you worship him. You praise his cock and the way it makes you feel so good—better than praying, really

The absolute trill of someone coming in and getting caught is like no other. Sometimes, Aegon even hopes that you’ll be discovered—preferably by his mother or that cunt of Septa that’s always preaching about sin and virtue

He imagines their faces as he fucks you from behind, taunting you and making you look directly at the statue when you cum around him

Aegon’s never really believed in the Gods much, but the way your cunt feels wrapped around him is heavenly

And to him, there’s truly no greater tasting sin

Daemon Targaryen

Otto Hightower had once called Daemon brazen, irresponsible, violent, arrogant, reckless and a second Maegor

He supposed that it was true, but still, Otto Hightower was a cunt in Daemon’s mind, and the Prince would do anything to get back at him

…Including fucking in his bed

In Daemon’s very weak defense, he hasn’t meant to, really

When he pulled you in a for a kiss, intending to take you quickly before he had to attend a meeting later in the day, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he pulled you

He just wanted to feel you, to touch you before he had to leave for the day

And what do you know—the place that he ends up brining you to fufill your hurried tryst was the fucking Tower of the Hand

Neither of you realize it at first, too caught up in each other to notice the amount of green, grey and white around you

It isn’t until you stumble onto the actual bed, Daemon fumbling to get your clothing off do you finally look up and you’re greeted by a portrait of Otto fucking Hightower on the walls

Alarmed, you immediately tell Daemon and it takes only a second to realize where you’ve accidentally stumbled

Of course, Daemon thinks it’s hilarious and even if you want to leave, a little creeped out at the thought of being fucked on the same sheets the Hand of the King sleeps on, Daemon is entirely too thrilled to leave

Once the idea is in his brain, it won’t be going any time soon

A mischievous grin grows on your lover’s face, and somehow, Dameon convinces you to let him take on Otto’s clean, perfectly folded sheets, loving the way you mess them up with your messy fucking

Of course, he’ll just blame the servants for all the mess, but now every time he faces Otto there’s always a knowing smirk on Daemon’s face, smug that the Hand will never know the dirty things said and done on the very mattress he sleeps on

Cregan Stark

Cregan was the Lord of Winterfell, and because of that he was allowed to eat where he pleased, train where he pleased…and fuck where he pleased

It was this that he reminded you of as he took you in one of the hot springs the castle had to offer, water splashing as your husband’s hips thrust into yours

He had you on his lap, your tits pressed against his warm wet chest as you bounced on his cock

The both of you were well aware that this was a public place and that anyone could stumble upon you, but that only spurred you on more

Honestly, seeing your honorable and kind husband act so reckless was a turn on in itself, loving the way Cregan grunted and didn’t care who heard him

He was lost in the feel of your cunt and the warm water which only added to the sensations

Add that to the trill of getting caught, and neither of you really lasted long when you fucked in the springs

Still panting and filled with your husband’s seed, you grinned as you ran a hand through his tangled hair

“Another day without being caught,” You said, slightly disappointed

Cregan shrugged. “Well, maybe we’ll succeed next time.”

Benjicot Blackwood

“Ben, not here! Someone could see us!”

“Then let them see. Let those Bracken cunts see how a real man pleases his Lady wife,” Benji whispered, and you couldn’t even deny that fucking right on the Blackwood-Bracken boundary line didn’t bring a kind of fire to your veins that you craved

Your lover had always been more shy and sweet than anything else, but you knew just how deep his hatred for the Brackens ran when he threw all of that away and fucked you so close to their territory

Deep, satisfactory moans left his lips as he rutted into you, the thrill of getting caught edging you both on like no other

You pressed against Benji, panting as his cock drove in out of you and hit your sweet spots over and over

All you could think about, all you craved was cumming around your husband’s cock while his enemies watched; and you did

Benji was beyond proud of himself as you moaned and let the entirety of House Bracken know what was happening. Let them know how good he was making you feel

He felt bad for the wives of those smug cunts as surely they’d never know such pleasure, but at least Benji knew that you couldn’t relate

The Brackens could say whatever they wanted about his family, but at least the Blackwoods knew how to fuck

And who knows, if they were watching, then maybe they’d even learn a thing or two from Benji

tags 🏷️

@alyssa-dayne

[7frogsspeaks]

If you've never worked in a big corporate office you are missing out on half of Severance

Everyone seems to be talking about the setting of this show like it's a big mystery we're waiting on answers for, and I keep having to remind myself that this is the Unemployed Website because every single aspect of the severed floor is a direct parody of corporate office work. Some of it is pretty obvious to anyone (being a totally different person at work than you are at home, excessive surveillance, etc), but unless you've worked in one of these places there's a ton you're probably missing.

So, for those of you who (luckily) lack corporate office experience, here is a non-exhaustive list of real phenomenon Severence is referencing:

- Having absolutely no clue where anything is other than your department. A large corporate office truly feels like working in a brightly-lit, featureless labyrinth. You get lost so easily, and the number of turns and hallways in the opening scene is not that much more extreme than how I had to get to my department (which was over a 5-minute walk from the main entrance). It's common to draw new employees a map.

- Cult-like worship and constant quoting of the company's founder/founding family and core operating principles. Long-time employees will genuinely treat it like religious doctrine. It's scary.

- The relationship between departments. The different cultures, outrageous rumors, distrust, compete lack of understanding of who they are, how many of them there are, where they work, what they do, and generally treating them like a foreign country is barely even a parody. It's just really like that. Going to another department and seeing their equipment and work area (and being stared at by a bunch of people who don't expect a stranger to be there) might as well be walking into a room that's a hill with intimidating goat farmers.

- Other people's jobs being utterly incomprehensible. The department that had a room behind a wall next to mine apparently used it for filling backpacks with weights until the straps broke. Another department had someone whose job was to shine different lights onto pieces of fabric and record the color difference. One of my positions was measuring various pants 20 different ways and then taking notes while a specific person tried them on. Apparently a guy somewhere occasionally got paid to make watercolors of birds. Some people did finance. You get the idea.

- Only ever hearing from upper management (who are treated like a group of fickle, wrathful gods) through a nervous secretary and never hearing their voices/seeing their faces. You might know their names.

- Weird, uncomfortable, often ritualesque events that are treated like a big deal. The company I worked for, for example, would announce the employees of the year by having a committee of people with noisemakers and silly hats parade around the buildings until they got to the person's desk, and then take their photo to hang on the wall. People were not warned beforehand, it was a ~surprise~. This happened daily at random times for over a week each year, and long-standing employees got really into it.

- People genuinely fighting over all those meaningless, patronizing rewards like pizza parties, fancy pens, etc. Having an "employee of the month" mug, for example, is treated as an enviable status symbol. Presumably this is why corporations think this stuff will also work in the service industry (it doesn't because service workers are normal).

- Ridiculous conspiracy theories about the building, management, coworkers, or company history, peddled like gossip.

- New employees having a rough adjustment period where it feels like you're adapting to an alternate universe. Office culture is nothing like real life though it's closer if you live in white suburbia and have an HOA, so during most people's first time working in one they bump up against a lot of unspoken rules, weird taboos, and general culture shock. Most of this involves navigating strictly-enforced social hierarchies, verbal adherence to company ideals, and using only specific types of communication, and being chastised when you mess up. It 100% feels like being indoctrinated into a cult.

- Not understanding the purpose of the work you're doing, and only receiving vague answers, that it's "important", and that there's a big exciting deadline. No single department has access to the big picture for how everyone's jobs fit together to accomplish something, you'd have to work in all of them or in upper management to figure it out. The inner machinations and goals of the company are generally treated like a mysterious secret.

- Never seeing the sky. Window offices are a prized commodity since the buildings are so big, so unless you're a high-up manager or the company has gone to great lengths to add access to widows (most don't because it's really expensive) you likely won't see daylight until you leave, even if you travel around the building during the day.

And for the Lifetime Unemployment crowd, some more general job phenomenon:

- So. Many. Acronyms. And being expected to say them all with a straight face, even if they sound really silly.

- Coworkers effectively ceasing to exist the moment they leave the company, with zero explanation given for why they're suddenly gone unless there's a retirement party.

- Management giving ridiculously nit-picky feedback as a form of hazing/power play, especially to marginalized people.

- Upper management making sudden, drastic changes to your job expectations, physical workplace, or management structure with zero notice and penalizing you if you can't adapt immediately.

- The entire vibe of your job being dictated by who your manager is.

- Your coworkers acting like what happens at work is their entire life, and treating their home lives as something extra they do on the side.

- Having no clue who your coworkers are outside of work, and that information being largely treated as taboo.

- Being effectively locked in a sealed space with zero access to the outside world for the entirety of your workday, and being told that that's not weird or a problem– it's a benefit that helps you focus on your job.

Basically: There's no big mystery to the structure and culture of Lumon/the severed floor. Most of it is never going to get a canon "explanation" because the target audience already has one. It's all a parody.

EDIT: Reblogged with more office-specific ones and some photo evidence

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Simon Riley.

Simon Riley masterlist

1. First off he hates the word ‘boyfriend’.

Maybe it’s because he’s in his mid thirties or something but he can’t stand being called your boyfriend. He’s more than that but also not at the same time. You live together, have access to each other’s bank accounts (which is only because he hates it when you try to fight him about him giving you money), and you’re each others emergency contact. He thinks of himself as your husband. The man wears a silicone ring when he’s home and a necklace with the ring that’s totally not a wedding band when he’s working. Price has seen the chain once or twice and smirks, shooting him a knowing look but never says a word.

Simon cannot stand it when people get nosy and want to know what your relationship status is. You’re together and that’s all that matters. No one needs to know that you’re the beneficiary of his will and life insurance policy or that he’s put you on all of his accounts. No one needs to know that he buys you anything you want but has only ever bought you two rings; a thin gold band with a flower engraved on it and its twin a matching emerald ring. No one needs to know that when he gifted them to you, there were tears and promises of safety, love, and happiness whispered against feverish skin. No one needs to know that he has your name woven into his chest tattoo.

No one needs to know any of that because your relationship is between him and you only.

2. You are not some submissive little house wife. You are a strong independent woman and he prefers it that way.

I know this one goes against what most people say but hear me out on this. Simon has been independent since birth practically. He’s only had himself to count on for years. Even in the military, he’s only been able to rely himself. Sure the others watch out for him but if it came down to it, he’s the only one who’s going to get himself out alive.

The thought of someone else relying on him in that way is terrifying. He can’t even fathom what it would be like to look at another person and fully trust them in that way. Half the time he feels like he can’t even be trusted to take care of himself let alone another human. In theory a sweet docile housewife is great with the meals and clean house but not for him. He needs to know that you can hold your own. He needs to know that you can be independent and carry on without him if something happened while he was working. He needs to know that you will be okay if he doesn’t come back.

You have to be okay without him no matter how much it pains him to think about it.

Like I said before, he’s made you the beneficiary of everything so he knows you’ll be set financially but that’s not enough. He’s made Price promise to keep an eye out for you. He’s made you promise to let Price do that and you agreed because it’s Simon who’s asking but you’d tell anyone else to fuck off.

In addition to all of that, he’s installed the best security system the government has to offer in your house. You have a very expensive and large safe in your shared closet that he’s instructed you to only open if you feel unsafe. While you might not like it, you agree to go shooting with him so he can sleep at night knowing that you could protect yourself if he’s not home. He’s gone as far as to make sure you have all of the licenses and certificates that are needed to legally own firearms in the UK.

He’s not leaving any opportunity for you to be vulnerable or have your ‘safety checks’, as he calls them, taken away.

3. Simon Riley is a godless man…until he meets you.

Now this is entirely my own headcannon with no evidence to support it so bear with me.

Simon had a shitty childhood where his mom would pray to a god who never listened and his dad would shout verses at him when he was drunk. God was a mythical figure that he was told stories off with nothing to show for it. He did believe at one point but then his dad never got better, his mom wore bruises of every shade, and his brother found comfort in drugs.

He found himself praying when he was being tortured by the Mexican cartel. Between the flashbacks of his abusive past, he prayed to a god who had failed him so many times before to help him. He prayed again as he dug himself out of that Texas grave with the major’s jaw bone. He wailed his prayers when he found his family executed after Sparks tried to kill him.

After that he deemed himself a Godless man. Years of praying had passed with nothing. This god had decided that Simon was not worthy of a miracle so why would he continue to worship him?

That was until he met you. He finds himself praying before every mission, every time he has to leave you, every time he’s on his way home, and just about any other time he thinks of you. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s praying for other than for you to be there when he gets back.

He whispers his prayers to an absent god against your skin as he worships your body, soul, and heart. He promises to be devoted to you until his last breath and vows to find you again in whatever afterlife awaits you. He pledges to find solace in you and only you when his haunting nightmares return. He makes an oath to your heart that it will never weather another storm alone again for his will take whatever beating that comes your way. He shows you that he will love you in the same manner as a Hozier song; putting you above all else because you have become his religion, his faith, his beliefs, his life.

You have become all that he is and he thanks the god he once believed in for you. He prays again but to you, his heart, his love, and his beacon through the enteral storm of life.

[ozzgin]

content: gender neutral reader, NSFW (public lewding, praise kink)

Monster!Butler is an exceptional employee, displaying all virtues one would expect from his job and status. If he is to confess one flaw, however, he would agree his jealousy can become a tremendous weight, especially when it comes to you - his favorite little human.

He first discovered his shameful vice when you brought someone over, your smile a little too wide, your cheeks one shade too red. Oh, what an embarrassing affair, yet he couldn't help it: he paced back and forth outside your door, biting his claws, praying your sanctity wouldn't be defiled by some pathetic creature. He had to take matters in his own hands. He could not stand the thought of someone else having their way with you.

Consequently, the very next day, he proposed to you a peculiar arrangement: if you are to fool around, why not do it with someone you can trust, someone who can guide you along properly? Please, he nearly begged, use him for whatever needs or curiosities you might have.

How he relishes in this cheeky secret of yours! To be the one to know all of your desires and preferences, to be the only one to hear your sweet whimpers. As a matter of fact, he will sometimes afford a little self-indulgence and do something otherwise outrageous; he'll teasingly play with you around other people, almost erratic from the delight of claiming you so shamelessly, so publicly.

Your fingers tremble above the piano keys as the other guests chatter in the neighboring room.

"Just like I taught you, (Y/N)," your loyal butler will encourage you, whispering in your ear. "You're doing so good. I'm proud of you."

You squirm in his lap, feverish and stuffed to the brim. With every movement, you can feel his erection throb inside you, edging you closer.

"I really don't think I can p-play", you mumble, too worried that opening your mouth fully might result in a moan slipping out.

As if to mock you further, he readjusts his seating, pushing himself even deeper. You bite your lip.

"It's only polite we entertain the guests, my dear. Background music is an important element, and it blocks out any other distracting sounds."

His large hands hover underneath your wrists, nudging you to continue.

"You can let go whenever you want," he coos, breaking his usual conduct. "I'm here to take care of it."

Truth be told, the monstrous servant is finding it equally difficult to maintain his composure, especially once you begin jerking in his hold, reaching your peak. He has to bury his snout against your back, releasing a deep, quiet grunt.

God, he adores you so much.

[Monster Butler Intro]

[gale-dekarios]

I didn't fall in love with a God, Gale. I didn't even fall in love with an Archmage.

I fell in love with a man from Waterdeep, shovelling the shit with the rest of us. I fell in love with a man who would sit by the pot for hours, making sure it wouldn't boil over. I fell in love with a man who I imagined I could kiss, not because he showcased his potential power, but because it looked lovely when he blushed.

Can Gods blush, Gale?

Can they?

OOF this one HURT!! It's non-canon to my playthrough, Gale is very much still just a guy and happy enough that way, but that one Everything Everywhere All At Once quote has been stuck in my head ever since I saw God!Gale for the first time. Gale's folly indeed.

(id: a comic panel. a yellow box reads "the god of ambition, leave your offering." a shadowed figure stands in front of a large statue of ascended god gale. they're looking up at him, tiny in comparison, and a speech bubble coming from them reads "in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you." end id.)

[supportsatvik]

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[tojbnuy]

cupcake (1)

mechanic!toji x baker!reader

art by @_jtvll

there was a child grabbing your pant leg. your hands were full to the brim with trays of cupcakes, all freshly iced and ready to be placed into neat rows to serve. you usually hate this part of your job and the small hand stopping you from walking was not helping.

‘hey uhm could you maybe let go?’

you still were unable to look down at the person/thing(?) grabbing a hold of you as the trays in your arms were stacked far too high.

‘right well okay’ and you had to resort to placing the cupcakes on a nearby shelf. upon looking down you saw.. a baby? well a toddler? you didn’t know many kids, with only one niece you would assume this kid was around about her age. 3 maybe 4? he still had a firm grip on the leg of your trouser and was smearing left over icing onto your pants from his sticky fingers.

‘cake.’ he said with pink icing stuck to his lips and chin. the boy was adorable. big sparkly eyes and black hair sticking out in every direction. he was wearing a shirt that said ‘dad’s best friend’ and tiny blue sneakers.

‘you want more cake?’ you replied and he was quick to nod his head vigorously, his hand Still gripped tightly onto you.

‘alright buddy i can give you a cake. but you really shouldn’t be behind here this is staff only. where’s your mum?’

you bent down to his eye level after retrieving a cupcake from your fresh batch and waited for any sort of answer. either he had no clue what anything you said meant or he was too entranced by the cupcake you were wielding in his direction but the boy said nothing, just stared at you with his massive eyes.

‘god now what do i do?’

you were fairly new to this bakery, it was a busy branch with a computer cafe joint on so there was always a large amount of people in store. and now you had to match one of them to this baby.

‘well you eat while i think.’

and the kid watched with a great level of focus as you peeled the wrapper of the cake off and handed him the little treat.

‘what’s your name baby?’

‘megumi’

‘wow that’s a cute name’

he clearly didn’t speak much and resorted to simply staring at you with his cheeks full of cake and even more icing decorating his lips.

you opened your hands to him in a way of saying ‘i’m going to pick you up now’ and when he didn’t seem to object you picked up the tiny boy and placed him on your hip.

‘don’t worry i’ll make sure you get back to your parents.’ again met with radio silence.

‘dada’

‘oh you came with your dada?’

‘dada.’

and only then did you realise the boy was staring out the window at a black haired, clearly frazzled man.

‘megumi? megs buddy please come back now, fucks sake.’ the back door was shoved open and by instinct you clutched the small boy to your chest.

‘megumi oh my fucking- thank god’ and as the man reached for the boy you gently tucked him into your neck. the man immediately frowned and looked you up and down as you did the same. well clearly the boy must be his judging off megumi recognizing him and there was also the fact that they looked exactly the same. except this man was tall and handsome and built like a marble statue. but you still wanted to make sure.

you watched as said man eyed you up and down and for some unknown reason you were incredibly thankful you had worn makeup and washed your hair this morning. your work uniform was bland, a pink half apron and the same baggy jeans and white top you usually wore when you knew you’d be icing cakes instead of serving customers.

‘listen kid, thanks for finding him but i am his dad, look i’ve even got pictures.’

and sure enough he was whipping out his phone and showing you his lockscreen of the boy you were holding in the same shirt with a black puppy in his lap. he then proceeded to open his photos app and show you a few more, some dating a few years back to when megumi was only a newborn.

‘dada’

‘yeah look see i’m his dad’

you believed the man the second you saw his face.

‘right okay i believe you, i don’t even know how he got back here i just turned around and he was grabbing me asking for cake. oh and also im not a kid im 22.’ you felt the need to clarify.

he smiled at that and took his child out of your hands.

‘sorry about that, but i’m glad it was you he bumped into not some creep. i was holding his hand and then i look down and he wasn’t there. the things this boy does when he sees cake’

you laughed and went to pick up your trays again when a large hand grabbed your arm and turned you back.

‘ah wait doll i’ve got to you pay you for the damage this little brats done, and to say thank you.’ he stuffed a few notes into the pocket of your apron.

‘it was just a cupcake it’s no big deal’ you said as you tried to hand them back to him without looking incredibly flustered at the use of a nickname.

‘no i insist, you really saved my ass. you work here often?’

‘yeah i’m usually at the counter but sometimes i just bake and ice the cakes.’

‘well clearly this brat thinks you do a good job’

‘so that means you’ll be back again i’m assuming?’

he smirked at that and your eyes were immediately drawn to the scar decorating his lip. his presence was intimidating, you could feel your cheeks flushing at his intense gaze.

‘yes definitely, i actually own the mechanics down the road so if you ever have any trouble make sure you let me know i’ll do you a nice deal’

‘i’ll keep that in mind uh?’

‘toji’

‘i’ll keep that in mind toji. i’m y/n’

he swapped his son to his other hand and stuck his right hand out for you to shake. you palm felt small in his large veiny one, his skin warm to the touch.

‘pretty name.’ he was checking you out again and you felt so small under his gaze. this was wrong, he was older than you and most likely had a wife or a girlfriend or a long term ex. this was definitely not going to become anything. but that didn’t stop you from giving him a few cupcakes for the road.

[fromdove]

MY JASON TODD PHYSICAL APPEARANCE HEADCANONS !

welcome to my ted talk. go ahead and sit your semi-literate goblin ass down and take notes, because i am about to paint you a portrait of this man so vivid you’ll think i dipped my brush in the lazarus pit itself.

HETEROCHROMIA. one blue eye & one green eye. im a very big and firm believer on this. this is my religion. this is my prayer. jason todd's eyes are my gospel, and I am the devoted disciple on my knees at the altar. he's always had them, before the lazarus pit & AFTER the lazarus pit. (although after the lazarus pit id like to point out that his eyes got a bit brighter especially the green!). i saw fanart once of this—just one image—and it was enough to send me into a trance. my jaw unhinged like a snake

LARGE SHARP ALMOND EYES. eyes sharp enough to cut!! real real real. sharp enough to gut someone in an alley. you get looked at by him and feel like you need to apologize for crimes you haven’t committed yet. yup that. they soften when he looks at you tho bc ur his amazing angel faced baby.

HIS GODDAMN JAWLINE. the kind you see on statues. could cut diamonds. so perfect. brutal. Pythagoras would rise from the grave with a boner, calculator in hand, shaking and crying overwhelmed by the sheer geometry of him. drooling. weeping & erect.

6'4!!!!!!!!!! MY MAN IS TALL. A GIANT. GARGANTUAN. and that’s the final word. idgaf. don’t come in here with that “canon says he’s 6’0” nonsense. fuck canon. canon is a lie built by cowards. they've screwed up my babies too many times to count. my Jason ducks under door frames and casts shadows over people trying to insult him. he intimidates every man in a ten-mile radius just by standing up.

BULKY. (not crazy bulky like those steroid obsessed body builder protein-powder-in-the-veins monstrous freaks but still jacked af. (like in this picture: click here and here) . he’s jacked like a Greek statue, like a renaissance painting of a war god.

white streak. white streak 24/7 for the rest of infinity. all night. every universe. every reboot. i don’t care. Non-negotiable. he got it from the one and only pit. he tried to cut it, dye it, tried everything to get rid of it at first but it just kept growing back and the dye would never work on it somehow ??/ so he just gave up lmao

OKOK his nose. my fave nose to picture jason with is an sightly upturned nose with a bump in the middle. do you guys know what kind of nose im yappin about? here is a visual: click here

ive seen fanart with jason with the j scar and i just think it fits his character and backstory. yes it was from that makeup-smeared tragedy of a circus reject. but fuck him!! this is about jason peter todd. my baby is still hot af anyways so.

SHARP CANINES. BITE ME WITH THEM. LORDDD MOTHERR GODDD. Carnivore-coded. was he born with them? is it a lazarus thing? either way theyre sharp little bastards. He tries to be careful, he reallyyy does but sometimes, mid-kiss, they slip. he nips you. he pulls back, eyes wide, guilt-ridden. you’re breathless. he spews like a million apologizes coz the last thing he wants to do it hurt u. but u dont care bc it feels so goddamn good... STOP ME)

Full lips that look like they’re always swollen from a brawl or a kiss.. with a slight cupids bow. god. yes. the corners/edges of his mouth are sharp (does that make sense?? help). he also has scars extending from the corners that look like smiles, they only stretch a few centimeters out. not that long at all. joker’s parting gift, poetic as it is cruel. OH AND he has the Toji scar !!! this one right here: click here

dark brown hair thats wavy & fluffy heeheheh (2c textured.) not straight, not curly, that luscious in-between mess that stays tousled and tragic and stupidly sexy no matter what. fluffy. thick. ruffles in the wind like he's some sad, angry prince. you run your hands through it and he pretends he doesn’t melt. he is NAWT a victim of the male pattern baldness epidemic. bye no no no no he doesnt bald thanks to the lazarus pit.

THICK DARK & FULL STRAIGHT BROWSSS. IDCCC THIS MAN HAS THICK BROWS. These brows have seen things. They furrow when he’s pissed (which is like always lmao), They’re intimidating, god-tier brows kinda brows. oh oh and theyre also kind of upturned !

his fingers. jesusususususus. Veiny. Long-fingered. Calloused. Worn. His knuckles are always scabbed (from fights). His nails are short, His fingers could snap a neck, but you just want them on your throat for different reasons. And the rings? Thick, heavy, sharp. Some brass. Some iron. they double as weapons. like i just know if someone pisses him off the rings are going to hurt like straight up fucking hell.

this man has long lashes. like long enough to collect dew. Thick enough to cast shadows. curled at the tips. his lashes are criminal. like wtf. theyre the kind that make mascara cry. they frame his eyes and face perfectly

scars all over. he has the autopsy scar on his chest, he has scars on his back too. his face, arms, legs, everywhere. bullet grazes, knife cuts etc..his entire body is a war journal basically

he has eye bags and dark circles which is a given considering what he does and his lack of sleep. They're not “oh, I pulled an all-nighter” eye bags, theyre bruised purpulish blue with a bit of red. u can seen some veins. his eye bags r a little puffy. this paired with his sharp eyes make him look very very intimidating to others but not to u, bc wdym intimidating? he's my angel?? he would never hurt a fly?? tf?

a few extra's!!:

A slight scar on his eyebrow from a fall off a fire escape in crime alley when he was 12. Never stitched it (despite the constant nagging from bruce & alfred). he said the blood made him look cool. (my angel baby i love him)

a voice that’s deeper than you expect. gravelly. like he chewed cigarettes for breakfast and chased them with glass. but it dips soft when he says your name. unbearably soft. traitorously tender.

faint cigarette burn on the inside of his left forearm. from back when he thought pain might be the only thing that made him real. said it was an accident. it wasn’t.

A barely-there tremor in his right hand. Old injury. Nerve damage.

[bigfuckingcrab]

I've cracked the code:

XCOM style turn based squad tactics Pokemon game

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Gotham's romance theory.

Danny is used to the theories circulating on the internet about him. Or rather about Danny Phantom. Anything ranging from him being an ancient god safeguarding some aspect of nature to Phantom being a manifestation of children's mischief.

His adventures with Clockwork and through the Ghost Zone had Danny popping up in various times throughout the course of history. No one could pinpoint when, where, or why Phantom appeared in myths and legends. Some people even argued that those ancient records spoke of another being because Phantom's diction was far too modern.

Danny thought it was a little bit hilarious to witness. He stumbled across a few forums the summer after freshman year and now hosts bi-weekly hangout nights where Tucker, Sam, and he scroll through the post to read to each other the most outrageous ones. Those nights usually end in laughter, so strong Danny's abs ache the next day.

His most recent favorite was the conspiracy theories posted by some guy in Gotham under the username , Bernard'sCookingTheories.

Apparently, Gotham had a "city spirit," a manifestation of a citizen's own will, and it went by the name Lady Gotham. According to the theorist, there were records of Lady Gotham appearing in Old Gotham back when it was known as New Gotham, walking around in a gown of smoke and face always covered by large hat. One would only be able to spot her at twilight, right as the world is bathed in Lady Gotham's darkness, and spotting her is a bad omen.

She used to bring her people good fortunate until her heart grew as clouded as her polluted sky, when Phantom-Prince of the Afterlife- broke her heart.

Danny was honestly surprised by how close Bernard'sCookingTheories actually got to his royal status, but he certainly never had a whirlwind romance with Lady Gotham, ending with him cheating on her. He doesn't even think Lady Gotham exists, but he appreciated the amount of research that the author put into thier posts.

If he didn't know the truth, Danny might have believed the theory, too. There was a lot of compelling proof Bernard'sCookingTheories dug up.

Danny visited Bernard's page, often checking in on more theories that involved the other heroes of the world and Phantom. He decided to make a PowerPoint to show Tucker and Sam at their next Hangout night with nothing but Bernard's blog content.

He clicked on it often throughout the day in those two weeks, hoping for updates on various theories like he was checking for new chapters in a story.

He never knew that Bernard's page was closed watched by his paranoid boyfriend, Tim Drake, who placed a tracker of who visited his lover's page. It was meant to ensure Tim's enemies - like Ra's- wasn’t bothering his civilian boyfriend, even if it was something as simple stalking his social media's.

When he got the alart, he almost threw on his Red Robin outfit in the middle of a meeting until he realized it was just a new fan of Bernard's brilliant mastery of the written word.

He did find it odd that a random guy in Amity Park, Illinois, was looking at Bernard's stuff so often. He wouldn't blame the guy if he fell for his lover's good looks- Bernard was one the handsomest man to ever grace this world , how could anyone not fall for him?- but he never posted a photo that wasn't proof of his research.

Maybe the stranger really liked the context, but Tim didn't think it was a coincidence that this person was in Phantom's well-known stomping grounds looking up theories of Phantom. He followed the IP to the origins, finding himself face to face with the son of the local ghost hunters location.

Well.....he never told Bernard, but he often thought his boyfriend's theories were cute and entirely wrong. However, if he was right, then he was arming Fenton with the means to kill a legend. Who knew what Prince Phantom's destruction would bring?

Not to mention what his undead court would do to Bernard. He doubts they would accept his boyfriend hadn't meant to bring the Prince harm.

Tim has only one choice.

He had to get Lady Gotham and Phantom back together so the powerful spirit would leave Amity Park and be safe without painting a target on Bernard.

Or he could get Fenton to move to Gotham and get away from Phantom.

Hmmm but how?

"Tim! My blog just got this new fan that's been talking about it without making fun of me! He agrees with me! He even messaged me to ask more about local urban legends. Which ones should I send? The one about Brown Bridge Lost Soul Mist or Batman being a reverse vampire? " Bernard practically skips into his outfit, looking utterly delighted. Tim's heart melts at the sight, feeling a goofy smile stretched across his face as his boyfriend babbles and then....it hits him.

"Bernard, how would you feel able opening a museum with me? It'll be all about Gotham's urban legends" Tim says lacing his finger under his chin, and grinning like a cat.

"Is this a proposal? Because my answer is yes"

Tim's grin stretches wider. "Wonderful. I know just who would love to help us set up the museum."

After all, he had noticed Fenton applied to multiple exchange programs at his school. He didn't get a single one, but that at least guarantees he would jump at a chance get out of Amity Park.

Once he was in Gotham, Tim left it up to Bernard to make him stick around. His boyfriend could get Batman to yield to one of his plans—at the time, he thought he was convincing Batman to help him save Tim, not Red Robin. Then, he could get anyone to agree to anything.

While Bernard worked on Fenton, Tim would hunt down Phantom and get him to rekindle his romance with a city's spirit.

[pome-seed]

Lipstick Stains ♡ Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Sub!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky's self-conscious, so you cover him in lipstick stains while telling him how beautiful he is.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Graphic Sexual Content. Body image issues. Submissive Bucky. Whimpering & whining Bucky. Hand jobs. Kissing. Kiss marks. Self confidence. Affirmations. Established Relationship

18+ blog, Minors Do Not Interact.

Authors Note: Inspired by a video I saw. God I wanna cover him in kisses. If you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Masterlist

It’s fair to say that almost every person alive has a complicated relationship with their body. 

Whether from years of self inflicted hatred, or from unwanted outside opinion, everyone feels a certain way. 

That includes Bucky. 

Bucky is a large man. He’s tall and broad, full and sculpted. He’s a statue of muscle and scars, and you’ve always believed he was the most beautiful man alive. Because generally, he is attractive. Nearly perfect, to the modern era's beauty standards. 

But it's not that simple, not for him.

Because his body is a prison, a shell, a glass cage marred with the shadows of his past. And when he looks at himself, he doesn’t see what you see. He sees blood, and burns. He sees scars, pale and swollen. He sees metal fused with flesh, reminding him constantly that his body isn’t really his. 

So when you find Bucky in your bedroom, staring at himself in the mirror, you know. You know what he’s looking for. 

Because Bucky doesn’t admire himself. He doesn’t take pleasure in pictures, or passing glances in the mirror. He doesn’t like looking at himself. 

But you do.

You always will.

“Whatcha doin?” You pipe up from the doorway.

Bucky nearly flinches, his gaze finding yours in the mirror. “You’re home early…” He mutters, a soft sigh tumbling from his lips. 

You shrug, carefully approaching him. “Not really,” you set your bag on the floor. “Same time as always. How long have you been standing here?” Your hands brush over his hips, where a towel clothes his hips. He must have just gotten out of the shower- except his skin was dry. 

“I lost track of time,” he relaxes as your arms circle his waist, your chin propping up on his shoulder. 

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” You stare at him through the reflection of your standing mirror.

“Just thinkin’...” He swallows, his large palms petting over where your hands rest on his stomach. You frown, wishing he’d look at you. 

“You wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head. He always says no when it comes to this. He just can never get the words out. Never muster the courage to talk about it. “Mkay,” you mutter, smacking a soft kiss to his shoulder. 

You don’t pull back, because the way he keeps your hands locked in place tells you he wants you where you are. 

Something Bucky made clear from the start was that he was touch starved. He never said it out loud, but the way he practically purred beneath every brush of your skin told you everything. 

You often think he’s too embarrassed, which is why he’s grateful you never confront him about it. Instead, you wrap him in your arms and curl up against him. 

You pet a hand down his muscular stomach, soothing and slow. “You’re beautiful, Buck,” you whisper, your lips pressed to his nape. He shivers, his throat bobbing. “Really, really beautiful. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

“Y/n…” he huffs, his cheeks heating under the praise. 

“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real, just by looking at you,” your thumb strokes over his naval. “I wish you could see what I see, James,” you rest your cheek against his shoulder. “I wish you could see how perfect you are.”

He stiffens, his arms slack at his side. His heavy gaze lifts to the mirror, but this time he tries to focus on where you’re connected. On the way you touch him. 

“If I could,” you start, your breath fanning across his skin, “I would spend my day just staring at you. Admiring you. Touching you.” Your fingers brush over the hem of the towel. 

He sighs softly, leaning back against you. 

You don’t have to look to know he’s already worked up. Emotional vulnerability works him up more than anything else. 

“If I could, I’d spend my life worshiping you.” You tug his towel loose, letting it fall to the floor. 

He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, deep and flustered, as he’s greeted with the sight of his naked reflection. “You’re dramatic,” he mutters, watching your hand inch closer.

“I’m not,” you protest, your free hand petting along his side, over the notch of his hip. “I mean it, James. I mean every word.” 

He groans as your fingers wrap around his stiff erection, his stomach tensing. “You-” he licks his lips. “You’re ridiculous…”

You chuckle, your hand still, just holding the weight of him. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you could see what I see.” You mutter, brushing a kiss over the shell of his ear. “I’m lucky, baby, I really am. To be with you, to hold you,” your thumb strokes the base of his cock, his skin smooth and warm. “To touch you.”

He groans, his hips twitching. 

Bucky stares in the mirror, astonished and only a little embarrassed. But your touch, to him, is like a drug. It’s like something he needs in his veins, in his soul, down to his very atoms. He needs it, doesn’t matter how. 

A brush of your fingers at breakfast, a hand on your hip as he passes you by, or a sweet kiss before bed. It doesn’t matter. He craves it. He craves you.

You look over his shoulder, catching his eyes in the mirror. “Look,” you insist. “Not at me, at you.” You rest your cheek against his shoulder. “Look how pretty you are.”

He makes a choked off noise, his ears tinting pink. “Jesus…”

You bite back your smile. “Are you embarrassed?”

He turns his head to the side, a frown curling at his lips. Because the only thing worse than feeling embarrassed, was being asked if you’re embarrassed. 

“You shouldn’t be,” you smile. “It’s a fact, Buck, you’re pretty.”

He huffs, his hips twitching forward into your still hand. “Y/n…”

You carefully release him, stepping back just enough to feel his warmth slip away. He looks over his shoulder at you, watching as you dig through your purse. He says nothing as you open up your small makeup bag. 

You find what you’re looking for and move back into his space, carefully pushing him back against the dresser. “I want you to feel it,” you mutter, your hand skating down his waist. He frowns at you, shifting on his feet. “To like what you see.”

“Y/n, I…” he shakes his head, reaching for your hips. “Knock it off…”

A soft smile spreads across your face. “Can’t. Gotta make my point.” You arch up and drag a slow kiss across his lips. He leans into you, sighing as your tongue strokes over his. 

You pull back too soon- a disgruntled sound rumbles in Bucky’s chest. You bite back a cheeky smirk as you sink to your knees before him. His breath catches in his lungs, his fists curling around the edge of the dresser. 

But you don’t acknowledge his heavy erection, not at first. Instead you open your hand, revealing a tube of lipstick. You uncap it and carefully apply the silky pigment to your lips. Bucky watches you, his brow pinched in confusion. 

“I don’t think you realize how perfect you are Bucky,” you whisper, rolling your lips together. Your warm hands stroke down his outer thighs, over the rippling muscle beneath the flesh. “Every small thing,” you whisper, leaning in. You press a soft kiss to the curve of his left thigh. 

“Your thighs,” you hum, pulling back to admire the red stain left behind. 

“What are you doing?” He swallows, his stomach tensing as he watches you. 

“I want you to see what I see,” you whisper, pressing another firm kiss to his right thigh. His hips shift, his aching erection twitching. “Have I ever told you how much I like your legs?” You mutter, glancing up at him as you peck his outer thigh. 

“So thick, so pretty.” You press red marks into his skin, the shape of your lips carved perfectly with lipstick. “I’ve always liked how they look in your dark jeans.” You slide your hands up the back of his thighs, grabbing a handful of his ass. “And how good your ass looks in them too.”

Bucky swallows, his back arching nervously as you touch him. He stares down at you, his jaw clenched so tight, his ears ring. “Y/n…” he calls your name, sounding breathless. 

You kiss along his inner thighs, the red pigment stark against pale skin. “So pretty,” you drag your hands back down his legs, petting him affectionately. You peck kisses between his legs, trailing them up to his hip. You glance up, nudging his cock with your cheek.

Bucky grunts, his cheeks dusting a furious pink. His heart hammers heavily against his ribs, pounding and thrumming beneath his skin. 

“Every part of you,” You cup him in your hand, your fingers wrapping around his base. Bucky holds your gaze as you press a gentle kiss along the side of his shaft. His stomach twitches, a soft whine falling from his lips. 

You smile, your spare hand stroking from his waist to his leg. You press another kiss just beneath the head of his cock, your lipstick staining him red. 

Bucky squirms, his hips twitching forward. His fists tremble against the dresser, his skin painted pink with embarrassment. “Christ-” He pants, watching you. You curve down, your eyes falling shut as you gently kiss along the curve of his balls. He flinches, a choked whimper falling from his lips. “Why are- oh god,” his lashes flutter as your fingers gently squeeze the base of his cock. 

You tilt your head up, his heavy erection resting against your cheek. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, dragging another firm kiss along the side of his length. “I want you to watch.”

He groans, his tongue swiping over his lips. He blinks down at you, embarrassed under your excessive devotion. “Okay…” He swallows, his chest stuttering with breath.

You stroke your thumb along the thick vein traveling along the underside of his cock, just barely offering stimulation. Heat sparks in your gut as he obediently keeps his eyes on you- only momentarily glancing at the many lipstick stains marking his body. 

He forces himself to look back at you, too flustered and worked up. But he knows it will stain. He knows those marks will last, even after a shower. 

He knows the next time he sees himself naked, He’ll see himself covered in your admiration. 

You lick your palm and wrap your fingers back around his length.

“What else?” He blurts, his voice breathy and light. 

“Hm?” You glance up, your lips pressed to his balls. 

“You like my thighs,” he gasps, his legs spreading to give you room. “What- what else?”

You smile, pulling back. “God, there’s so much.” You chuckle, dragging your tongue along his weeping slit. Bucky chokes on a broken whine, his body arching into you. “I like the cut of your hips,” You arche up, smearing lipstick into his sharp V line. “I like your stomach,” You peck below his belly button. 

“I like when you lift your arms over your head, and I can see your happy trail.” You thumb over your last kiss mark, where short dark hairs are stained red. “I like your back, how big you are.” You whisper into his stomach. 

He pants, his mouth falling open as he tries to grind into your hand. He doesn’t get much from it though, making him whine softly. “Uh-huh…” He looks pathetic, chasing pleasure as you cover him in lipstick, begging you to take mercy on him.

But this wasn’t just about sexual pleasure, it wasn’t about chasing a high. It was about physically marking Bucky with your love, with your devotion. It was about holding his attention and showering him in gentle affection. 

Because he wasn’t used to this- he wasn’t used to offering himself up, vulnerable and weak, for you to handle. But he trusted you, more than anyone else. 

He trusts you to pick him apart, tease him to the edge, and fall apart. He trusts you to not make him feel pathetic as he whimpers through it, squirming and twitching beneath delicious pleasure and affection. 

“I like your arms,” you gently pump his cock, nuzzling into the base. “Both of them.”

“Yeah?” He gasps, his chin dipping to his chest as his muscles clench. 

“Mhm,” you mouth along his shaft, his pulse spiking beneath your tongue. “I like your shoulders, so broad and strong. Your chest, your smooth skin-” you pause as he chokes on a whine, his hips squirming closer. You smile, slowing your hand to a stop.

“Fuck-” He pants, his pink lips wet as he continues to swipe his tongue over them.

You pull back, staring up at him. Your stomach flips at the sight before you- Bucky, blushing and breathless, his brow knit tightly, shadowing those sharp blue eyes. His chest rises quickly with breathlessness as he struggles to ground himself.

“Tell me what you like,” You ask, continuing to slowly stroke his cock. 

“I- Ngh-” He chokes, his body trembling as he takes it. “What I like?”

“Tell me your favorite part of your body,” You explain.

“I don’t know-” He gasps, grinding into your hand. 

You carefully push his hips back against the dresser, trying to get him to focus. “Try,” you ask, smiling when his lashes flutter. 

He swallows hard, his jaw tensing as he tries to speak. “Uh-” he pants, blinking down at you. He has to turn his head away, his face aflame at the sight of you pumping his lipstick stained cock. “I like my jaw,” he whimpers.

“Mm, me too,” you grin, thumbing the curve of his tip. “What else?”

“I-I don’t mind my legs,” he moans, trying not to fuck your fist. 

“Come on, baby, gimme more,” you whisper, kissing his hip.

He whines, his head lolling back. “Fuck, I-” he pants. “My lips, I like my lips.”

You smile, nodding along. “Mm, those are my favorite.” You stare up at thim, at the way his teeth dig into the plush curve, trying to silence himself. 

“My height,” he groans, your fist tightening slightly. “I like my height.” He swallows, trying to gather himself enough to think. “I like my muscles,” he mutters, embarrassed at the admission. “I like being strong- knowing I can protect you.”

Your lips twitch in a soft frown, affection burning in your chest. “Look at me, baby.”

He blinks down at you, his body twitching. 

“You always make me feel so safe,” you whisper, satisfied by the mewl that falls from his lips. “Knowing you’re with me makes me feel protected.” 

He moans, the thought of your faith in him making his stomach burn with arousal. “Yeah?” 

You nod, slowly pumping his length. “I like knowing you’ll always take care of me,” you whisper, your lips pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock.

Bucky moans, the sound wavering, breaking into a soft whimper. “Y/n, I-” He calls your name, the sound falling from his tongue like a prayer. “Fuck, I- I have to-” he gasps. “Can I-? Oh fuck, please?”

You shiver, arousal burning through your veins. “Of course,” You press gentle kisses to his tip, his slick precum smearing your lipstick. 

Bucky’s whole body draws tight, like a wire ready to snap- and it does. He chokes on a broken sob as he spills over your fingers, cum dripping to your thighs. He squirms, writhing against the dresser as you fist his cock, helping him through it. 

“Oh god-” he sobs, his hips twitching as you spread his release over his stiff cock. “Oh fuck,” whimpers fall from his lips, spiking your pulse like a drug. 

“So good,” you kiss his slick head again, listening to him whine.

“Fuck-” he gasps, overstimulation making him flinch. “Okay, stop- stop-”

You release him instantly, your hands stroking down his thighs. He groans, his body slumping against the dresser. You smile, resting your cheek against his thigh. 

His trembling hand slides into your hair, petting you gently. It takes him a while to come down from that heady space, from the overwhelming pleasure. 

You just stroke down his leg, curling up against him. 

“I’m-I’m gonna have to shower again…” He whispers, panting softly. 

“Yeah, these aren’t coming off with just a little soap.” You smile, tracing the many red lipstick stains. 

“I know…” He swallows, his stomach twisting from the possessive act. 

When he looks down at himself, at you, he blushes softly. His pale skin is speckled with dark red, the shape of your lips burned into his body.

He bites his lip to suppress the embarrassed smile that fights its way across his face.

A/N: The submissive Bucky requests are appreciated. I love a whiny Bucky.

Minors/ageless bios WILL BE BLOCKED.

Taglist:

@a-world-with-pure-imagination @frog-fans-unite @1967barracuda @akkklys @cherryheairt @lonelyghosts-stuff @mysoulbelongstobuckybarnes @devilslittlehelper @miss-chuchu @dollface-xoxo @natalia42069 @thuul-box @local-crazy @justachillgirllui @pleasecallmeunhinged @cookies-and-music @fallen-w1ngs @unicornqueen05 @bloodmocha @sleepysongbirdsings @fadingcollectivenightmare @hosshihusshi @sharkylalala

Tagged because they said I should write sub Bucky stuff:

@projectjuvia @scarlet-bitch @nicolesholes

I won't tag you again unless you asked to be tagged in further works...I don't wanna bother you... <3

[2kiran]

“FEEL YOU”

pairing jaime lannister x reader genre smut reader is a male. top!reader x bottom!jaime cw drinking beforehand, reader has a big dick, first-time anal, mention of jaime being a whore (1), spit as lube, abrupt ending

Jaime Lannister despised you.

You were a new addition to the Kingsguard by the recommendation of a seasoned commander, and yes, you’re exceptionally skilled and determined and like no other man.

But you’re crude with a young ego festering like a deathly disease Westeros hasn’t come to discover yet.

You challenge Jaime—no, worse than that. You mock him, and you do it frustratingly well.

And Jaime hates all of it.

He hates you; your handsome grin that vanishes too quickly to be completely seen, your familiar frown that haunts his mind late at night, your stupid strength that immobilizes just about anyone, and your equally stupid, large cock.

One thing about Jaime was that he wasn’t a crippling alcoholic, gods no, but he drank and you drank and now he’s bent over a table in a dirty storage room.

The upper half of his armor and smallclothes remained worn, but his pants were loosely bunched around his ankles. You, on the other hand, were the exact definition of a nightmare. Your own pants were undone, and they were hanging around your thighs, but not enough to feel bare.

Then there was your hard cock. Your hand wrapped around the base, guiding the head of it to rub against Jaime’s clothed hole. He can feel how wet you’ve become, the slickness of your pre-cum dampening the soft material of his smallclothes.

It was disgusting. You were disgusting.

But that didn’t stop him from angling his hips backwards to press against you, as if he was wordlessly coaxing you to come fuck him like he was some easily disposable brothel whore. A status that he will never achieve, but he felt like he has. You were shamelessly rutting against him like an animal; your cock sliding right in between his lower cheeks but never entering him.

Gods, it was maddening. He can feel the weight of your cock, the mere thickness of it rubbing over his ass—and for once, he allowed himself to want another like this. Allowed himself to want a man, above all.

But you just had to tease him.

“Come on...” Jaime muttered through clenched teeth, not realizing that he did utter the words aloud until you respond with a low hum.

“Hm?”

“Fuck me,” he growled, a tinge of heat flushing his face. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

You breathe out a short laugh, “Not yet. Just let me feel you.”

He was going to have your head on a spike after this.

Though, the mere notion didn’t last long enough to take complete root into his head when you hook your thumb beneath the waistband of his smallclothes and tug them down, making Jaime let out an embarrassing gasp. He was dry, and his inexperience in receiving cock was nothing but guaranteed.

That won’t stop either of you, not when Jaime himself was eager.

Jaime instinctively arched his back as he folded one of his arms in front of him to act as a shield for his face while the other, the one with his only flesh hand, braced the edge of the furniture. He didn’t look your way, not yet at least, but he sensed you leaning down and that’s when he felt it.

Drool—slick and yours. It dripped over his untouched hole, and you spat directly against it once more in a way that had Jaime lightly biting down on the skin of his inner arm to suppress the pathetic whimper that wanted to escape him.

You gently pressed the pad of your finger against him, feeling up the intense coil of muscles attempting to resist the pleasure you were about to bring. “Stay still,” you whispered low, before slowly sinking your digit into his heat.

“I am—fuck,” his voice broke into a rough groan, his walls automatically clamping down around you. Both his mind and body uncertain if they want to push you out or keep you right where you belonged.

You gladly make the decision for him, and you carefully ease your finger in down to the last knuckle. The stretch itself was supposedly mild, but Jaime’s thighs shook with the solidified effort of keeping himself where he was. His brows drew together in a line, his muscles growing taut, but just for you, he tried to focus on breathing through his nose to have you know that he can take more.

It was a matter of reckless pride on his part, but there was no reason for applause.

...Perhaps there was, if only it was for the way Jaime’s hole swallowed your cock like a true king born to sit on the Iron Throne.

You were barely halfway inside, and the Golden Lion in front of you mentally concluded that it was more than enough. He whimpered—the small noise bitten-off and no less whiny, and stubbornly, it was decently masked with a sharp exhale. Your cock was so fucking thick and, even worse (or better), throbbing inside of him. Like you found pleasure in nowhere else besides torturing him.

“Wait,” Jaime barked, the command useless in his breathless tone.

“Is it too much, Kingslayer?” You teased, kindly brushing the palm of your hand over the small of his back to ease the tiniest of tremors currently ruling his skin. Though, your use of his supposed title that’s known for its derogatory nature was anything but.

You did not judge him for putting an end to the Mad King.

And that made Jaime unexpectedly clench down around you.

“Shut up—!” Jaime snapped, his chest heaving as he bucked backwards against you. Only to gasp when he realized too late that it caused you to sink further into him, “Ah! Haah, fuck—ah—don’t m-move until I tell you to.”

You huff, mildly exasperated, but you obey anyway.

Your actions were contrasting with his usual viewpoint of you—a man too cruel and too unloving to fuck someone else so considerately in spite of the agonizing words you speak. It made Jaime want to cry, both from how you were splitting him inside out and from how you were being somewhat kind towards him.

He felt an unreasonable gush of greed.

You didn’t belong to him, and he didn’t belong to you, but he sensed no inkling of an opposing front left if it came down to that.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Move. Now.”

There’s no way around other than to feel your cock sliding out of him inch by inch until only the head was being clung onto by his wet, stretched rim. Jaime panted, a bit irritated now, as he tilted his lower half to further accommodate and unmistakably please you.

“Tell me,” you whisper, leaning over his back, “How many men have fucked you like this?”

Slowly, you roll your hips, making him full once more.

“Mmh... n-none. ‘S just you—!” Jaime gasped, his words honest, the pressure sending a shudder across the length of his spine. “Just—hmmn—you!”

And you’ll make sure it stays that way.