#at wit's end

[ronearoundblindly]

WHY HAS THIS BEEN SO HARD TO WRITE IN READER'S POV???

Big Girls Don't Cry

CEO!Steve Rogers x co-CEO!Reader from It Had To Be You series

prompt from this dirty ask game, and I'll give you a hint--they absolutely do cry, and in this instance, Steve, uh, really likes it.

Summary: It goes against everything his Ma taught him, and his every instinct to protect, but Steve is willing to comfort you in any way you please after a horrible meeting ruins your mood.

Warnings for smuuuuuuuuuut, and we do not waste a single sentence of lead-in. This is a little rougher than usual for these two, and it took an angsty turn, which I guess means I will have to write a makeup for them... MINORS DNI. Kiddos and my delicate flowers, you can find something else to delight you on my Light Masterlist, but not here. WC ~1.1k

"I know, precious, I know," Steve soothes with a rough grip to your shoulder, keeping you from sliding farther across the satin bed sheets as his hips wetly slap your ass. "Let it out, sweetheart."

The arch of your back deepens when you bury your face and sob. He continues to keep his pace steady, just like he promised.

Steve sits up, adjusting his knees until his thrusts visibly shove your jiggling ass higher, and slowly pets that broad hand down your sweaty spine.

"That's it," he whispers.

Peppered in with your tears are grunts of anger. He understands only a little, but after the morning's disaster of a meeting, he'll do anything to make up for his blunder.

You take over and bounce on his length, pumping him with your tight pussy while Steve eagerly watches himself disappear and reemerge shinier with your dripping arousal.

This...shouldn't be the hottest sex you two have ever had. He should feel awful about walking you into a conference room of chauvinists, encouraging you to ignore their snide comments, and whiffing the opportunity to stick it to them.

You did everything he should have, and now he has to grovel in whatever position you demand. He can't question or argue. He can't comment on the how loudly you cry for him to fuck you harder. He can't mention that he found you hiding in your old apartment, curled on the couch, soaking the sleeves of a baggy sweatshirt with your tears. He can't take time to parse how you went from that to jumping in his arms, to ripping off his clothes, to pushing him into the bedroom, and to presenting your bare sex.

Who is he to argue? Steve is but a man in love...

God, it feels like your sucking his soul out of his body though. His face is scalding with desperate embarrassment that he really likes how this afternoon took a turn.

He's not going to last if you keep this up, so his goal changes from glorified fuck-boy to proper boyfriend. Steve can only take so much crying from anything other than pleasure. Your frustration has to be mostly worked out by now, right?

"Come 'ere, precious," he gasps, holding your hips still as he leans to kiss your shoulder. His arm threads beneath you and lifts, pinning your back to his front and stretching both of you to face the headboard.

He painted you that picture which hangs above it. He's noticing it's askew, probably from the repeated smack of your bed upon the wall. Steve resolves to fix that later.

Instead, he keeps his arm locked beneath your breasts, free hand snaking down between your legs and slapping gently. He can feel the strike in his balls.

You yelp, and damn, he is liking this.

He smacks again, softer this time, like a kitten swat for your undivided attention. "Give me a big one," he rumbles, beard scratching at the column of your neck where he licks a stripe. "Please."

The begging never fails to make you whine. Steve knows this, so he keeps pleading for you to come while his slick fingers circle your clit. He can touch the base of his cock in those same strokes, nudging at your sweet spot with pointed ruts from behind.

Shit, he's close.

Your mewls are tinged with sadness, your head falling back against his pec, eyes closed with tears still escaping the corners.

"Hey, hey, look at me, baby."

A slow, heavy gaze locks onto his.

"Fuck those guys. You are everything, precious. Everything."

Steve hopes you can't hear the unhinged crack to his voice as he feels his orgasm wrenching through his gut.

He lowers his lips to yours to mutter "I love you" against them and spanks your mound one last time before he loses control, cum leaking into the condom, threatening to fill to the brim.

The band in your belly snaps, too, tensing your body in his arms, forcing him to hold you up as your legs curl forward and off the mattress.

Steve keeps a slow, steady pace of rubbing again, swallowing your powerful moans in a greedy kiss, letting himself fall back to his heels and come hard with you.

"Beautiful," he praises. "So perfect..."

Your limbs jolt while you ride out the aftershocks, and he moves his hand to press you flush with him, no need for the sharp angle of your spine when he slips out easily now.

But you're still crying when he lowers you to rest on your side. Your body immediately shrinks like it was on the couch.

"Shhh, my good girl," Steve tries. "It's okay. You're alright."

He sees you shiver and scrambles to find the blanket, tucking it around you but not giving you space to hide your face.

He cups your cheek so you can't cover your eyes either, thumb sweeping across the wet streaks left behind, asking if you're ready to talk to him about it, but you shake your head.

"I love you," you do say. "I just hate you a little right now."

Steve frowns.

He shouldn't have given in. He shouldn't have taken the bait. He knew this wouldn't fix anything.

He thought you needed it, though, thought you needed him. He wants to be needed. He thrives on being needed by someone so independent.

Professionally, Steve's always been needed for his products, his poise, his persistence. Personally, he feels like nothing but a burden.

That feeling crossed over today, and he hated himself just a little, too.

He cleans himself up, returns to wipe you gently with a warm cloth, and drapes a fluffy towel over you to layer under the blanket, worried that the overhead fan you insist stays on will give you chills from sweating.

He's not leaving, and he tells you as much before settling to face you on the pillows.

When you don't answer, your eyes open but staring down and away from him, he offers, "I can't go back in time, precious, but I can promise I will never kowtow to men like that ever again."

You huff judgingly.

"I'll believe that when I see it, Rogers."

He'll take it, begrudgingly, but Steve lives to fight another day for your renewed respect. For the moment, all he can do is vow to succeed or die trying.

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[zephyrchama]

Can you imagine misbehaving slightly at a fancy party - like maybe you're improperly reaching across a table instead of asking for a dish to be passed - and Barbatos subtly slaps you with with his tail.

There's nobody behind your chairs. No one will see. It is important to follow the etiquette that he taught you so these demons don't look down on you, and on humanity as a whole. Though, he can't exactly have a private conversation with you at the dinner table. Sending you a look of disapproval is hard when you're sitting side by side and focused more on the food than on Barbatos sitting next to you.

It's just a flick. Quick, powerful, you barely perceive the cool drag of his tail on the surface of your skin before it starts stinging. It doesn't last lost but it sure leaves an impression. You snap to attention and swivel your neck to stare at him. Barbatos is as poised as ever, with a pleasant smile. He acts like nothing happened. He does hope you'll remember your table manners.

[foldingfittedsheets]

In one misfortunate year I ended up getting into several car accidents. It cemented my general fear and anxiety in cars, because in each case I was either in the car but not driving or driving safely when suddenly something hit me.

One was my ex driving in an unfamiliar city and cutting someone off on accident that resulted in a sideswipe. Another was getting rear ended when I came to a required stop.

The last was when I had a green arrow at an intersection. I turned and was smashed into by someone running a red light, T-boning my little car.

Dazed and in shock I tottered out of the car to behold a crusty older man eating a donut step out of the offending vehicle. A fire truck arrived to block us off from traffic since my car could no longer move under its own power.

“Were you on your way home from work?” The firemen asked me.

I shook my head, struggling to focus on them, “No,” I said vaguely, “I was on my way home from volunteering at the animal shelter.”

In an instant they were closing ranks around me, glaring at the ambivalent donut man who would dare to hit a tiny frail angel who volunteered at the animal shelter. They asked if I needed to get anything out of my car. I did.

“It’s… uh. It’s a little weird though.”

They gestured for me to proceed. I grabbed a bag with snacks and books and filled it with things I couldn’t just leave in my car. Last out I pulled my cutlass.

“Is that a sword?!”

It was. They were instantly like giant puppy dogs, excited and delighted but trying to mind their manners. The bravest said, “Can we…?” I held out the sword. They whooped with delight, unsheathing and marveling at it.

“Why do you have that in your car?”

“I honestly don’t remember, it’s just a fun thing to have at a party now.”

“Is your wrist okay?”

My shock was wearing off and I realized I was cradling my wrist to my chest. “Oh.” I rummaged into my bag and pulled out a wrist brace.

“Wh….why do you already have that?” I was starting to confuse the firemen. I volunteered with cats, had a sword offhand, and kept a wrist brace in my car bag.

“Sometimes I try to hold books in a way that sprains my wrist? So I have this in my car just in case.”

They stared at me. Maybe, like my wife, they assumed it was for masturbation induced injuries. They handed my sword back as the tow truck arrived and thanked me for letting them play with it. They gave donut man one last glare and drove their big truck away.

[meraarts]

Ella: the prince was a foul-mouthed cunt, but sometimes I do wonder if he was actually good in bed

Tadius: unfortunately he was

Ella:

Ella: what

Tadius: what

[crowatyourwindow]

Kenji and his cow Hanako II were the best duo from wan change my mind

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

if time was a religion i would be its most devoted follower 🕰️ 🙏🧎

;3 extras +

full design sorta + original sketches with CW's hadonkabadonks that i sadly had to cover with his clockface 😔

also here is the inspiration - Doha the priest from 'I thought my time was up' on webtoon 😳😰😰

[sminny-wew]

Idk for certain if this is going to apply to future Welcome Home updates, BUT

There's a saying/quote that goes something along the lines of:

"Once is by chance.

"Twice is a coincidence.

"Three times is a pattern."

[milliebugydementia]

DONT WORRY guys god is just testing me! *holds out my palms with raised eyebrows and a big smile* it's a thing we do sometimes, *shrugs coyly, looks up to the side dreamily* it's like a little game *squints, gestures*. just me and him *swings a finger back and forth between me and the air*, you get it *gestures at you and nods*, YEAH you do! *nods like encouraging a good dog*

[rottxdecay]

Gricko, you gain the ability to break the fourth wall.

bruises warning!

secondary little doodle of him healin' after a battle!

[dizzybizz]

mingling memeing for today 🥰

[lumishells]

beautiful 1-3 for our boys

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

It’s thanksgiving and Steve is making dinner for the guys, plus Robin, Chrissy, and Wayne. Steve is pulling out all of the stops— he’s making a turkey, a ham, Mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, yams and marshmallows, stuffing, the works. His turkey isn’t even dry, which causes Freak to propose to Steve on the spot.

Everything is homemade and obviously super delicious. But, Steve isn’t paying attention to his omnipod and barely eats anything all day. He’s had little tastes of some stuff here and there to make sure that it tastes good, but besides that, it’s been nothing.

Eddie comes into the kitchen and finds Steve almost dead on his feet, monotonously stirring the gravy.

“Hey Stevie, how are you feeling?” He wraps his arms around Steve’s middle and turns the burner off, coaxing Steve to a seat at the table. “When was the last time you checked your level, my love?”

Steve shrugs and motions toward his diabetes pouch.

Eddie first checks Steve’s pod, then his phone to see how far off the app is, before pricking Steve’s finger.

“Yikes, babe. Let me get you a snack and a juice.” Eddie gently places a Garfield bandaid around Steve’s middle finger and kisses the top of his head. “Be right back, baby.”

Ten minutes later, Steve is feeling much better and lets Robin take care of the rest of the cooking. Eddie holds Steve hostage on the couch and continually monitors Steve’s blood sugar levels for the rest of the night.

Steve wakes up the next morning snuggled into a blanket burrito. His head is in eddie’s lap and they are both in the couch. His fingers feel faintly sore and he sees the bandaids on almost all of his fingers.

“Hey Eds?” Steve shakes his partner awake and plants a big kiss onto his lips.

“Yeah?” Eddie is rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and stretching. “What’s up?”

Steve smiles. “Thank you for taking care of me. I love you. And I think we should get married tomorrow.”

Eddie laughs. “I love you too, Stevie. Can you wait until Saturday? I already have an appointment made at the courthouse.”

[benevolenterrancy]

~ Extremely Unwilling Magical Protagonists Attempt To Outrun The Plot And Not Fucking Die ~

(@takofukkatsumi this tag is from a while ago but it hasn't left my brain -- L-Space got very weird all of a sudden)

[raconteur-wanpi]

A pre-timeskip Usopp doodle for nooooo reason. No reason nothing happened just wanted to draw pre-ts Usopp. Nothing prompted this.

[7arami]

Cryptic Radio Host Billy Batson

Billy would make the prefect cryptic radio host. Maybe he is from ancient Greece, cursed to be the Champion he is stuck in the body he had when he first transformed.

Billy has walked this Earth for millenniums, he was seen the rise and fall of empires. He has witnessed the mindless slaughter of man over and over again. He continues to watch as the world rots around him due to pollution. But he has also seen good, and has done his best to spread good. Even if that means being with left with the pain of watching the ones he loves die and knowing he will always be alone.

At some point Billy makes his own radio show, I think he would still be called Whiz Kid. It is on a frequency not many can reach, only pure luck will allow you find it. Billy's radio station is in the middle of nowhere, practically a wasteland. It is where he spends his time when he is not wondering or saving the world from impending doom.

Billy uses his shows to reveal things long forgotten. Historical conversations that hadn't been recorded or kept behind closed doors. He shares the Earth's secrets, unveils what lurks in the deepest depths of our seas, boasts of the mysteries within our universe. Most people think the Whiz Kid isn't real. But it's said if you do find it, the information told rattles the listeners to their core.