#Aaaaand I’m back

[awfullybigwardrobe44]

Happy things day 96

• abysmal day but also I sat in the car checking my phone and messaging after tutoring today and it’s sunny and I realized as I drove away that the sun on my face even through my windshield had felt so so so nice

• found a simply stellar typo in what I believe was a high school French textbook. For those curious, the phrase was “ne peut pas traduire…” and it appeared as “ne peut paWs traduire.” How even.

• did I mention it’s sunny

• I don’t want to be like I’m Not Like Other Girls but there’s kind of a specific way I think I might be unique in matters of faith and I don’t care to elaborate at this time but it’s really cool and special to me when I hear songs that express that and I can be like “You. You get me. Not everyone does, but you do.” Found one of those songs recently

• I see Hamilton next Thursday?? What???

• I visited my grandma in assisted living tonight. I wasn’t planning on it but we had something we needed to get to her, so I took it. She seems to be doing well. She met some nice residents at dinner, she ATE her dinner and had a good dessert, she’s really happy with her room, and she walked me out to the front door which is a kind of long ways and she did just fine. I think she will for SURE be getting more exercise than she’s had in years, and I’m excited for that.

• I bet it was a God thing that I needed to drop that thing off for her tonight. Because I was able to watch her navigate around her room pretty confidently, which was the #1 thing I was (am) worried about. I think she might be ok. But I’m still praying. This first night will be the most unfamiliar to her.

• I got some work done on a project that has been Stressing Me Out and I think it’s going super well so far

[imitor]

coming soon to theatres near you: my lore multi(s)

[owlfacenightkit]

Thinking about Book Four. Someone save me

[blametheeditor]

“What are you?”

Scott freezes at the question. The same one he’s heard countless of times in different stories. One’s that all ended the same way no matter who told it.

And with how the voice sounded like thunder, there’s no denying he’s been found. By a human.

The young borrower doesn’t even look behind him. Instead he desperately tries to pull his arm out of the knot his thread made around it. Shrieks in terror and pain when it only makes it tighten around his wrist more. But he can’t think of anything else to do, he has to get away he’s been seen the human is gong to kill him!

“Ooh, that ain’t pretty.”

The human sounds a lot closer, and just to prove it, the ground suddenly jumps.

Scott can’t help himself. He sends a look over his shoulder. Doesn’t dare breathe when he comes face to face with a shoe. A massive one. With strings he could use for rope that would be better than the thread he uses to climb. At least those are thick enough they won’t wrap around his arm and make it feel like it’ll be cut off at any moment.

But he could never take those strings. He’ll never get the chance to. Because any moment now and the shoe is going to crush him.

Panic has Scott yanking his arm again, yelling in pain when his thread only tightens more. And now it’s bright red, and his hand is going numb.

“Alright, just calm down little guy,” the human thunders. “Keep pullin’ like that and you’re gonna lose your arm.”

Terror keeps the borrower frozen, not wanting to upset the towering being who could easily complete such a threat. Or finally stomp on him to get it over with. And he doesn’t want either to happen.

The only problem is that he gave the human the perfect chance to grab him, fingers curling around him before he realized what was happening. By the time he does, he’s pinned down to easily stop his squirming.

Scott chokes on a sob as thumb taller than him nudges his thread, a hum shaking him to the bones.

“Damn, you really tangled this up, huh?” the human muses. “Don’t worry, I’ll getchya free in no time.”

And the moment he’s free, Scott won’t even get the chance to run.

[evilwinterfruit]

*sighs*

Who allowed you out in public? How did you escape your leash? Shoo!

You can blame Illy for all of it. Still better than being crated.

[boobied-dicker]

C’mon Jae, you’re falling behind already

[steampunk-raven]

can I stop rapid switching. please. that would be lovely

[byoldervine]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

[bruisedboys]

Aaaaand okay I swear I’m about to shut up but I know steve rogers is your bf and you’re slowly converting me so can I please request him with the prompt “you're blurring your words together, time for bed”? He’s just so. Bossy <3

HI MAEE omg I love you for this thank you!! also yep mhm I need him to boss me around. for science x join the celly!

steve rogers x fem!reader, 1.1k words

Steve comes home from his week-long mission bruised and exhausted, his chest aching for you. You’re all he wants after a week away. As much as he loves his team, you’re the only person he wants to see after spending seven days straight with Nat, Sam, and Bucky.

You’re not hard to find. He pushes the front door shut, and he’s shouldering his pack off when he hears footsteps from the hall.

“Steve?”

A second later you appear from around the corner, looking pretty as ever, clad in your flower-print pyjama pants and one of Steve’s old shirts. He grins.

“Hi, honey.”

You beam and throw yourself at him. Steve gets his arms around your waist and hugs you so hard he lifts you off the ground, your arms locked around his neck like a vice. He breathes you in — you smell amazing, the peach shampoo he bought you last week lingering in your hair, mingled with that soft lemony laundry powder you always use on your clothes. He’s so happy to see you he forgets to speak, until you fill the silence,

“I missed you so much,” you say into his neck.

Steve puts you down, grinning like a madman, hands greedy on your warm body. “I missed you too, sweetheart. Come on, let me see you.”

He steals his arm from around your waist and gets his hand on your jaw, encouraging you back. He holds you a few inches from his chest and leans away so he can look at you properly. You smile up at him, all sorts of pretty, your hair messy and your face all dewy like you’ve just washed it. He’s missed you so, so badly. He thumbs your cheek.

“How’d you get prettier while I was gone, hm?” Steve murmurs, and while he will admit to purposefully flirting, he totally means it. He imagined your face plenty of times while he was away, but it could never compare to how you look right now.

You flush. “Steve.”

Steve’s chest aches. He loves the way you say his name, all flustered like that. Egged on now, he doubles down. “Seriously, honey, it was only a week,” he says, feigning disbelief. “Can’t you give a guy a break?”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, and hide your face in his chest, hands screwed into the sides of his jacket.

Steve laughs, giddy with fondness. “Hey, that’s not fair. I haven’t seen you all week and now you’re hiding from me? Come out,” he says firmly.

You emerge then, still flustered, but your lovesick smile mirrors Steve’s own. Steve curves his arm tighter around your waist and dips down to kiss you on the mouth. You push up into the kiss like you were waiting for it, your lips warm and soft, tasting of mint. Steve, too eager and somehow still unaware of his strength, accidentally holds you so tight you’re forced up onto your tiptoes from the pressure of it. But you only hum against his mouth, content to be manhandled. Steve decides he’s never going on another mission again.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

When he pulls away, you’re flushed as ever.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, but you make it sound like I love you, too.

Steve just grins. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “C’mon, let’s sit down and you can tell me about your week.”

He guides you to the living room, half carrying you. You’re clinging to his arm like a leech, seeming unwilling to let him go. Steve’s not complaining. He doesn’t want to let go either, not for a long time.

“Did you eat yet?” You ask him on the way to the couch.

Steve nods. “Yeah, babe. Ate on the way home.” He knew if he came home without having eaten, you’d insist on making him something, despite the late hour. Besides, Sam insisted on stopping for Mexican on the way back.

Steve sits on the couch and tugs you down with him. You end up sitting sideways in his lap, your knees bent up in front of your chest, looking like everything Steve’s ever wanted. He holds your waist and tries not to smother you right then and there. He wants to hear about your week, every detail.

“Tell me what you did this week,” he says, rubbing big circles into your back.

You smile at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, and press one hand to his chest. Steve’s heart thud thud thuds like it wants out. He’d let it jump right out and land in your hands, if he could.

“Okay,” you say. You push your hand up his shoulder to hold his neck. “So, after you left on Monday, I…”

You launch into an explanation of the week, sparing no details — you know by now that when Steve wants to hear about something, he wants to hear everything. Meanwhile Steve listens, half super eager to take in everything you’re saying, half mesmerised into a quiet lull by how lovely you look in his lap like this, your hand slowly trudging up into his hair as you talk.

You tell him about work, about how you went and looked at cats at the adoption shelter on Tuesday, about the new pasta recipe you made last night, and that there’s leftovers in the fridge if you want some, baby. He listens until you start to droop, your body slowly slumping into his chest.

“And then, yest’day I got the groceries,” you’re saying, your words slurring together at the ends like you’ve got a spoonful of honey in your mouth. “But they didn’t hav’any of that chocolate you like, Steve, so I went to th’store out by…by—“

You cut yourself off with a deep yawn, your shoulders rolling back languidly. Steve rubs your back.

“Honey,” he says, both amused and so, so fond.

You blink at him. “Hm?”

Steve gets his hand under your jaw and tilts you to look at him. You look like you’re doing a great deal to keep your eyes from falling shut. He pushes his hand down to your shoulder and thumbs your collarbone.

“You’re blurring your words together,” he tells you. “Time for bed?”

You frown. “Wasn’t finished,” you say, looking somewhat put out.

Steve laughs softly through his nose. You’re so cute he could eat you.

“S’okay. You can finish telling me tomorrow, yeah?” He strokes hair from your neck gently, his other hand pushing under your shirt to feel your warm skin. He spreads his hand over the small of your back. “You’re tired, babe.”

His touching seems to have the effect he hoped for — you practically melt in his lap, your shoulders going lax as you lean into him.

“Okay,” you say, compliant as putty in his hands.

Steve takes you to bed. He leaves you under the covers while he brushes his teeth and gets changed, assuming you’ll be asleep by the time he’s done. But when he slides into bed next to you, you reach for him.

“Missed you,” you murmur softly, pushing your arm across his chest in the dark.

Steve is so full of fondness he can barely get the words out, but he manages. “Missed you, too.”

[keferon]

I don’t know who would be the best fit for this, maybe Red Alert, but someone has to be looking at Jazz/Prowl from the outside like their watching a body snatcher horror movie.

- “Oh Prowl found a really weird foreign guy and brought him back to base? Okay that’s his choice so whatever.”

- “Hey this guy is actually super weird? Like. Veering into deeply unsettling uncanny valley territory. He’s. . . very friendly. Especially to Prowl.”

- “Oh frag he’s dangerous.”

- “Okay. Okay! Super-deadly-crazy-foreign-guy apparently:

A) Does not feel pain.

B) Does not drink energon.

C) Is getting very familiar with our lead tactical officer. Is nobody concerned about that security risk? No?

Cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcoolcool.”

- “HE’S A WHAT?!”

- “Dear Primus it’s an organic. It’s an organic alien that - it’s - it’s a corpse. It’s controlling a lifeless mech from the inside.”

- “WHY IS PROWL LETTING IT CRAWL ALL OVER HIM??”

- “Either Prowl has finally cracked under the pressure of the war or that thing has infected his processor with something.”

- “Wait.”

- “Can it do that?”

- “Oh Primus it showed up in a hollowed out body what if that’s what it does?”

- “Okay. Okay! Prowl is cold and calculating. He is absolutely just letting the thing crawl on him so he always knows exactly where it is. He’s in control. It’s just, creature management. It’s not like he-“

- “OH HE IS VERY FRAGGING EMOTIONALLY INVESTED IN THIS ORGANIC. PROWL IS BROKEN. ITS MAKING HIM GIDDY. PROWL IS NOT GIDDY. THE ORGANIC FRAGGED UP HIS PROCESSOR THAT IS THE ONLY WAY WHAT I’M SEEING CAN BE REAL.”

- “Prowl and the organic still haven’t returned from that mission. I wonder if- oh! There’s Prowl but no “Jazz”. Ah, must have perished. At now it can go back to normal. Prowl looks off. Why does he. . . He’s moving weird why is he-“

- “NO. NO. SLAG OFF. HE DID NOT. HE DID NOT LET THAT THING CRAWL INTO HIS CHEST.”

- “I’m gonna be sick.”

- “The organic has eaten Prowls processor and stolen his body.”

Sometime later.

- “Prowl was hypnotized into going to earth. Where he got experimented on and nearly died.”

-“Swerve has lost his mind insisting he was living as one of those things for years.”

-“Aaaaand Deadlock has been reduced to a doting pet.”

- “Vindicated.”

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE

YEP. YEP YOU ARE 100% CORRECT HERE

Prowl: Lets Jazz crawl inside him and take control over his body.

Red Alert and probably every other Cybertronian:

Although..I think Swerve's reaction would be something like "Wait IS THAT AN OPTION??"

Jazz: Yeah so we discovered that Prowl can in fact scan a mech and then transform himself into it. And be perfectly pilotable.

Swerve's infected with anime and tv shows geeky ass:

[neeeooon]

hi hi this is my 2nd time requesting alrdy 🥶😅😅.... lol anyway, I wanna I request for bllk boys meeting reader's parents unexpectedly. like reader's parents catch them being very undeniably couple-y. Very very awkward situation 😋☝️☝️

I rlly wanna see this specifically with Isagi, Reo, Shidou, Yuki, and Rin. Other characters would be fun too if you want🔥🔥🔥

hihi welcome back 😈 okay i think i gotchu I HOPE YOU ENJOYY

when your parents walk in on you ;

bf bllk x gn!reader. 16+ cw: suggestive!!! kms jokes in isagi’s + reo’s

isagi yoichi

-> isagi just scored the winning goal in the final nel game, and he still hadn’t come down from that high hours later

-> your fingers dragged through his hair and down his neck, scraping the back of his jersey as he shoved you against your bedroom wall. your parents were out for date night, giving you plenty of time alone with your boyfriend

-> it was supposed to give you plenty of time alone with your boyfriend

-> isagi groaned against your mouth, his fingers digging into your hips. and then you heard it. “y/n? are you alright, sweetheart?”

-> you barely had time to shove isagi off before your bedroom door was pushed open, and your mother let out a loud gasp upon seeing you, lips swollen and t-shirt rumpled. “m-mom! what are you doing home?”

-> “your father got food poisoning. hi! you must be yoichi!” your face burned as she approached your boyfriend with an outstretched hand. “mom!” “uh, y-yes ma’am.” he greeted as he shook it with two hands. “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

-> you wanted to die. after taking way too long to talk to your boyfriend, your mom finally left. “door open, kids!” you dropped your face into your hands and groaned, “i am going to kill myself.” “suicide pact?” “deal.”

mikage reo

-> you had study sessions with reo all the time. your parents knew he was intelligent, and though they’d never met him, they trusted the two of you to keep things innocent when he was over

-> and yet your homework was long forgotten as you sat comfortably in your boyfriend’s lap, back pressed against the desk as he kissed you hard

-> you didn’t hear the door open. you didn’t know your parents were home until you caught a glimpse of your mother’s stance from behind reo’s head, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she tapped a manicured finger against her forearm

-> you practically fell out of reo’s lap and landed with a thump. “mom! uh, what are you doing home so early?”

-> she isn’t impressed. “i already have a headache. i’m assuming i don’t have to stay up any later to give you both the talk, do i?”

-> aaaaand you’re ready to curl in on yourself and die. “oh my god.” “guessed not. nice to meet you, reo. make sure you’re home before tomorrow.” “you too, mrs l/n. i’ll be leaving now.”

shidou ryusei

-> “my parents are going to be home any minute…” you sighed when shidou slipped one hand beneath the waistband of your sweats, the other slowly making its way under your shirt. “lucky for you, cutie, i only need one to make you—”

-> “l/n y/n?!” you scrambled out from under your boyfriend, clutching your hands to your chest as you gaped at your parents standing in your doorway

-> “haven’t you heard of knocking?!” “this is our house. and we were coming to wish you a goodnight! who’s he?!”

-> you knew for a fact that your parents knew you had a boyfriend. however, you always described him as someone sweet who takes care of you and makes you laugh. your parents seemed caught off guard by the spiky pink hair and heavy eyeliner

-> your silence gives shidou the chance to reach a hand out for your mother to shake. “it’s a pleasure. i’m shidou ryusei.” your mother eyes his hand warily before shaking it. “hm. mrs. l/n.”

-> thankfully your father has enough trust in you to gently pull your mother from your room. he quietly greets shidou, compliments his hair, and wishes you both a goodnight

-> “i cannot believe that just happened,” you groan as you flop back onto your bed. shidou falls beside you and places a soft kiss to your neck. “oh well. your dad seems cool, at least. want me to leave?” “uh uh. you promised me a minute.” “😈”

yukimiya kenyu

-> you’re watching a movie with your boyfriend, parents visiting your uncle and aunt, when you’re suddenly bored with the film on screen

-> quietly, you slip from the couch into a kneeling position, yukimiya’s eyes following you the whole way down. “uh, y/n?” “mhm?” “what are you doing?” “nothing~” “what if your parents—“ “i checked their location. they’re still forty-five minutes away.”

-> you move directly in front of your boyfriend, hands sliding up from his shins to his knees when the door suddenly opens

-> your dad freezes when his eyes land on you and yukimiya. “dad!” you shout, jumping to your feet as your boyfriend hurridly throws a blanket over his hips. “why didn’t you knock?!”

-> he has a hand over his eyes in a tired fashion. “i bought this house. why did you decide to do that in the living room?” “… oh.” “yeah, oh.” “.. this is my boyfriend, yukimiya.” “i figured.”

-> yukimiya doesn’t trust himself to stand, so he waves as your dad from the couch. “n-nice to meet you..?” your mother finally appears, smiling brightly and cluelessly when she spots your boyfriend. “oh! you must be kenyu!” “hello, mrs l/n.” “we were just heading to bed. enjoy the rest of your movie!”

-> your parents leave, not without your father giving you “the look” before trailing after your mother. you drop onto the couch with a sigh. “your house next time?” “definitely.”

itoshi rin

-> you were innocently teaching rin how to cook. alone. while your parents were at work. they only agreed since you promised to introduce your boyfriend to them (and cook dinner)

-> it starts out that way. you and rin, side by side, mixing ingredients and making sauces. however, your fingers are now running over your boyfriend’s shoulder muscles as he carefully lifts you onto the counter, never breaking your kiss

-> you weren’t quite sure what set you off, but you suddenly needed to be as close to your boyfriend as humanly possible. he didn’t have any objections, hands trailing from your hips to your back when the soft jingle of keys breaks you apart

-> “was that—“ “no… no way, right?” wrong. the door swings open, and rin flies to the other side of the kitchen as he pretends to read the recipe book

-> “y/n!” your mother greets, heels in hand as she comes over to kiss your cheek. she pauses in front of you, wiggles her eyebrows at your flushed face, and shoots a secretive smile in rin’s direction. “aw, my little lovebirds~ i’m so happy to finally meet you, rin!”

-> rin waves awkwardly from his side of the kitchen, earning a little laugh from your mother. she sighs, “oh, to be young and in love again! i’m headed to the store. i’ll be back in twenty minutes for dinner. twenty.” she winks at you before vanishing out the front door, leaving you shocked to the core

-> “i—“ “so that really just happened?” “well, at least my mother likes you..?” you finish dinner as quickly as possible, keeping a safe distance away from each other, and groan in embarrassment when your mom jiggles her keys and kicks the door before opening it. “let’s eat!”

pt 2

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

night out

a/n: we back babyyy!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about these two for fucking months, so i wrote both this aaaaand another part to wrap up their story and get it out of my system.

summary: “I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader x ex!peter parker, light smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, bffs kate bishop and yelena belova, french rave, dancing, kissing, over-the-clothes fun, foreplay, references to public sex, choking, manhandling, jealousness, possessiveness, angst, arguments, brat mode activated (though its totally justified), these hoes are not dealing with their emotions in a healthy way but it's just for the sake of yummy drama

word count: 1993

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“I thought we were just going to a cute little wine bar, not a fucking rave,” you yelled over the music as your friends dragged you further into the warehouse. 

“Oh, come on, babe,” Yelena boomed, slinking her arm around both yours and Kate's neck, “don’t be a chicken now.”

“Yeah,” your brunette friend on the other side of Yelena tilted her frame to catch your apprehensive eye, “you already sneaked out, so you might as well make it count.” 

“I hate it when you’re right,” you groaned, your gaze narrowed to a squint as you got used to the warm flashing lights that dully illuminated the club. 

“Then you must always hate me,” a smug smirk spread across her features before the trio of you ventured further into the crowded space. 

As the night faded away, you found yourselves bathing in the strobes of neon light as your bodies moved on their own accord, like you were all part of a hive, buzzing together in harmony.

But then when you tapped both of your dancing friends on their shoulders and ushered their ears to lean in close to your lips, you told them, “I’m gonna go get some water,” receiving two thumbs up before you made your way through the crowd to the curved bar in the corner. 

However, after the bartender handed you a plastic bottle and you tilted your head back to take a much-needed sip, a familiar voice found your ears from across the bar. 

“As I live and fucking breathe,” you tipped the bottle back down and glanced down the way at the unexpected figure moseying closer to where you stood. 

“Peter!” a surprised smile couldn’t help but spread across your features, “what are you doing here?” 

Settling in beside you, he said, “it’s a Saturday night, where else would I be?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Paris?” 

“Oh, what, am I not allowed to be in your city anymore since the breakup?” he joked.

“No, of course, you can be here.” 

Leaning in even closer so that he didn’t have to yell as loud, he asked, “so how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good, yeah,” your head bobbed in a nod, “how about you?”

“Can’t complain,” his gaze washed over you as if no time had passed at all, “so… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shifted the water bottle to your other hand. 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Oh, wow,” you half coughed, “Peter Parker, king of subtlety.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count, so I figured subtlety went out the window a long time ago,” he smirked, “so, are you?”

“I–, uhm…” your eyes averted a moment as you uttered, “no.” 

You weren’t, it was true. Though the reason for why you’d sneaked out in the first place did have to do with a matter of the heart. 

You’d asked your friends what their advice would be if you hypothetically needed to get over someone. They both of course assumed that you were referring to the man standing before you in the disco and not the person who watched you like a hawk every minute of every day. The method they had suggested wasn’t a sound one, though one that still found you desperate enough to try. 

To go out, meet someone else and bang the dude out of your system. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Peter asked again, ripping you out of your thoughts, away from your bodyguard and back in the moment. As you offered him a nod, he smiled brightly, “you wanna dance?”

And that’s how you found yourself in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, plastered against your ex.

It didn’t take long before your lips reunited as well, staying locked as you both let your hands wander, though for you it wasn’t entirely in the spirit of rekindling something that you’d missed, and more to help you forget about the person who you truly wished to lose yourself on a dancefloor with. 

“Fuck,” you heard Peter groan in your ear and his desperation poked your lower abdomen for the attention you used to give it, “you wanna go slip into the bathroom?”

“Uhh,” you giggled as his lips tickled the side of your neck, “what kinda woman do you take me to be?”

“Mine,” he smiled, “that’s who. I know you. A club bathroom is nothing… remember Amsterdam?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” your body tingled at the thought. 

“That’s also an option, if that’s the kind of mood you're in,” he winked. 

Chuckling as he squeezed your tit, you shook your head lightly, “I’m not fucking you here on the dancefloor.” 

“Oh, come on, it–”

But the rest of your ex’s sentence was cut short as a figure forced itself between you two and pried you apart.  

Instinctively reaching out for Peter as he was forcefully pushed back, your arm then faltered as you blinked up to discover who had shoved him. 

“Barnes,” a shiver ran down your spine at the stormy expression plastered all over his face, a side of him you’d never witnessed before, “I–”

But he cut you off, only to bark, “out, now.”

“But I–”

“Do you wanna walk on your own or should I just toss you over my shoulder?” he glared down at you just before you watched Peter’s hand plant itself on Bucky’s broad shoulder. 

“Hey, dude, don’t touch her, back off,” your ex tried to square up to the intimidating guard dog. 

“No, no, Peter, it’s alright,” you rushed to explain, knowing full well that your bodyguard could and would put him in the hospital, “he’s–…” your eyes briefly flickered up to Bucky’s steely blue eyes, still directed at you, “he’s my bodyguard,” before you let your touch graze Peter’s forearm, “I’m so sorry, it was great seeing you again, but I have to go.” 

Getting dragged out of the club like a perp from a crime scene was not the way you’d imagined your night would wrap up. 

After he’d virtually tossed you in the back and slammed the car door shut behind you, you fished out your phone and swiftly sent your friends an explanatory text while you half-watched Bucky march around the vehicle to the driver’s side. 

The silent treatment he then served you nearly felt worse than the heated words you imagined tumbled around in his head as he fumed, his knuckles nearly turned white from how fiercely he was gripping onto the steering wheel. 

But when you finally mustered the courage to break the eerie silence, your words came out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are you?” his eyes snapped up to find yours in the review mirror, “really? Because I don’t fucking buy it.” 

“Well, I am!” you threw up your arms, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Not sneak out like a fucking teenager to get drunk with your little boyfriend,” 

“I’m not drunk and he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Not taking any of your words to heart, Bucky went on, “you know how stupid this was, right? What if something had happened, huh? I know you didn’t personally read the threats you got back when I first got this job, but trust me when I tell you that if any of those fuckers had gotten their hands on you tonight, you’d be lucky if you were still breathing when the sun rose. This is exactly the sort of reckless behaviour that caused you to need my help in the first place.”

Your mouth then fell open, utterly stunned at his audacity, “oh my god… you’re unbelievable…” you uttered breathlessly before hazily commanding, “stop the car…”

“No–”

“Stop the fucking car!” you roared, casting your gaze to him once more till you felt his foot step on the break. 

As the car screeched to a stop, you wasted no time ripping the door open and storming out. 

Though you didn’t dare to look back, you still heard him exit the vehicle as well and shadow you as you wandered a few paces away, just far enough for you to be able to get some air. 

“Y/n,” you heard him from just a few meters behind you, “get back in the car–”

But you didn’t shift your feet as you then interrupted, back still turned to him.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

“What?”

“Well aren’t you?” you heatedly twisted around to face him, “because it sure fucking looks like it. Getting all fucking possessive, ripping me away from my ex before I can crawl my way back to him, before I get the chance to feel anyone inside of me but you–”

“Stop–”

“Is that it? You just want me all to yourself?” you kept on poking, too blind by your fury to consider the consequences, “you want it to be you that I’m so in love with that I’d make you personalised porn, which would consequently ruin my life and cause me to have a babysitter essentially stalking me.”

“Stop!” he took a step closer as he barked.

“Unless you’ve already seen the tape,” your feet shifted back, keeping him at a distance, “fantasising that it’s for you, getting yourself off to the image of me bouncing on that pretty pink dildo–”

Your sentence then crumbled into a shrivelled yelp as you felt his cold metal hand seize your neck and push you the last few inches up against the brick wall behind you. 

His fingers didn’t squeeze you in the slightest, though you still knew just how easy it would have been for him to tighten his grip and turn it into more than just a raging warning. 

“You done?” he spat as his eyes pieced directly into your soul, “or do you wanna give me more reasons why you’re nothing more than a spoiled little brat, why I should just quit now and not have to deal anymore with what a fucking pain you are in my ass?”

For the life of you, no attempts at offering him an answer were successful on your lips. 

He scared you. 

He’d never scared you before. 

Both because of the explosion you’d undoubtedly made even worse than it had to be, but also his fleeting threat of leaving you for good. 

It all terrified you… 

Though, there was also a different sensation that it awoke within you, one that caused your eyes to flutter down towards his lips, an action that your bodyguard surprisingly mirrored as well as your heated breaths synced up. 

You had no idea who moved first, if it was you or him, but the next thing you knew, you were kissing him.

With adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you clawed at his broad frame as you let your tongue flicker out and flutter against his own. The steely hand that had locked itself around your neck softened and whisked down your form, mirroring your own starving touch as he securely held you like you were about to fall. 

However, just as your palm slid down to find the bulge in his pants, rubbing it needily before your fingers tried to seize the short zipper, Bucky took a large step back, snapping to his senses and creating a wide distance between him and your melted form against the brick. 

His eyes refused to meet your foggy ones as he held them to the ground, slowly catching his breath before uttering, “get in the car,” defeat shining through in his low tone.

“Bucky–,” you tried, but without success as he then cut you off. 

“Please, just–…” his gaze fluttered shut a moment as you then heard him sombrely promise, “look, I’ll make sure your mom doesn’t hear word of what happened tonight. If we go now, then we’ll arrive before any of the staff wakes up, no one will notice.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[noctiva]

EJ and/or Toby blowjob HC’s?

Giving and receiving, plz?

(I’m trying so hard not to apologise as I write this 😭)

NEVERRR APOLOGIZE!! I got you!!! you’re getting both boys <3

-

NSFW Headcanons | Eyeless Jack + Toby Rogers

Giving + receiving a blowjob ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

-

CW: Explicit sexual content, 18+ content, descriptions of oral sex (male recieving), mentions of masochistic + sadistic behaviour

-

NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

-

okay let’s start out with Toby!

Giving

I mentioned in a previous headcanon list that I see Toby as being a very heavily repressed bisexual dude - so he does NOT have any experience except for like, what he’s seen in porn lmao SO! be patient with him, he’ll probably be a little nervous/apprehensive at first.

But, he’s also a massive people pleaser - especially if it’s his s/o - so you best believe that he’s shoving that nervousness deep down because he just wants to make you feel good.

He’s an idiot, so he’s just going to try and deepthroat you right off the bat. He can’t feel the pain of it, so it should be easy right? Wrong. He’s a choking, gagging mess that you’ll have to quite literally yank off of you if you want him to slow down so that he doesn’t hurt himself

Guide him through it, and don’t forget to praise him while you do so.

“Open a little wider… That’s it. So good for me.”

And he’ll be melting into a puddle at your feet.

Real messy, so be prepared for that. Excess drool that he can’t swallow back seeping out of his mouth gash and dripping down his neck. (And if you cum in his mouth, same thing.)

Likes it when you’re a little rough. Tug on his hair, push his head down once he’s used to it. Both hands on either side of his head as you fuck into his mouth.

He’s real sensitive, so he’ll get so worked up from sucking you off that he might just cum untouched if you’re lucky.

If he’s on his knees, he’s whining while rubbing himself through his jeans

If you’re lying down, he’s pathetically rutting up against the bed while he bobs up and down on your cock

Will happily swallow, but don’t be afraid to cum on his face either. (he’ll never admit it, but his pretty blush will give away how much he likes it)

Recieving

We got a head pusher!!!

LMAOAOAO okay I love him but that’s simply the truth. He’s not the best with self control, so he will be tangling his fingers in your hair and tugging you down onto his cock regardless of if you can take it or not

Hips bucking into your mouth because it just feels too good to try and stay still

You can try and use your hands to keep him pinned in place, but it’s a losing battle tbh

Absolutely FILTHY fuckin mouth

“L-Look so good choking on my dick. C-C’mon let me see some more of those t-tears.”

Gets off on watching you struggle. Every whine or whimper of discomfort is just going to get him going even more. (He’s a nasty little sadist)

Sometimes he’ll bring his hand down and plug your nose, just to see the way your eyes widen in panic before he lets off with a stupid grin on his face

LOUD. Does not have a care in the world about volume. Plus, you’re trying so hard, so he should let you know how good you’re making him feel, right?

Likes it best when you’re on your knees, whether he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, or standing.

Loves getting to look down at you as you stare up at him with teary eyes that just go hazier each time he bucks into your mouth.

Is either cumming down your throat, or making your stick your tongue out so that he can finish himself off over your waiting mouth.

Aaaaand Jack!

Giving

HUGE tease. Mentioned this before and I’ll say it again.

It might seem like you’ve got the upper hand here, but you don’t. Not in the slightest.

Large hands will keep your hips pressed down, claws digging into your skin with a grip so firm that you couldn’t dream to wriggle out of it

He’ll go slow. Partially, to minimize the possibility of nicking you with his fangs, but mostly just to feel you squirm and twitch beneath him so pathetically.

He’s got a loooooong tongue and he will be putting it to use. Wrapping around your cock with it, spending a great deal of time just using his tongue to play with you before he even lets you in his mouth.

He’s methodical, and precise. He knows exactly where you’re most sensitive, exactly when to go faster or slower just based on the rate your pulse is going and the heat you’re generating.

Will probably edge you :) As I said, he can read your body language like a book, so the moment he hears your moans go shaky and your hips start twitching - he’s pulling off. Just to listen to the absolutely pitiful whine you’ll let out because of it

“Oh, poor thing. But don’t you want to make it last longer?”

His hands will be everywhere while he goes down on you. Squeezing your hips, sliding up your stomach, finding a nipple and pinching it hard enough to elicit a gasp.

Regardless of how it’s going down, one thing is certain - you will be a mess by the time Jack is done with you.

You can cum in his mouth and he’ll gladly take it, but he’s also kind of mean, so sometimes he’ll pull off at the last second just so that you cum all over yourself instead.

As I said, a mess.

Recieving

Mentioned this in a post not too long ago, but Jack LOVES getting head. Lives for that shit tbh

He’s stupidly big, and he knows that, so he’s quite a bit gentler than Toby would be.

He’ll have one hand cupping your jaw as he slowly guides his cock into your mouth, a shiver going down his spine when he listens to the sound of you whimpering because of how he’s making your jaw ache.

You don’t have to take him all, if all you can do is suckle at the tip while pumping the rest of his length with your hand, he’ll take that too

But… He will probably train you to deepthroat him.

Doesn’t matter how long it takes, he’ll be as patient as can be. Giving you an inch at a time then just holding himself there, waiting until you relax before he’s sinking in a little more.

Will totally make you take him all the way to the base, and then hold you there with a hand on the back of your head. Just relishing in the feeling of it, only spurred on more when you start clawing at his thighs because you can’t breathe.

After that though, he’ll let you go at your own pace. As I said before, he knows it’s gotta be a tough task, so he doesn’t want to risk hurting you

(Despite the primal urge to just grab hold of your head and fuck into your drooling mouth with no restrictions.)

Wipes the tears from your cheek while cooing the sweetest praise down at you.

“There you go. Doing such a good job, baby. You feel amazing.”

He’s cumming in your mouth, or down your throat, and he expects you to swallow. No ands ifs or buts about it lmao. He’ll say something about “marking you as his” if you ask about it.

[sknyuz]

70√3? | j.w.w.

synopsis: you’re failing math and somehow got stuck being tutored after school with jeon wonwoo—the quiet, sharp, charming, but not overbearing, top student—as your tutor. you thought numbers were your enemy. turns out it’s something else entirely... like his sleeves. or that one smile. or maybe the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: highschool au, fluff, academic rivals (but it's y/n vs math), a little open-ended and very soft !!

wc: ~750

a/n: i definitely don't miss wonwoo hence me writing this i swearrrrr hahahahhahahahaha (my husband is in the military) the title is also just me playing with a calculator in third grade. the writer's block is crazy.

“how are you hanging in there?” wonwoo asks, his voice low and even, like he wasn’t judging you at all for being on the same equation for the past seventeen minutes.

you groan, slumping your head against the library table. “i swear i paid attention in class. but the moment letters start mixing with numbers, my brain just... exits the room.”

he lets out a quiet chuckle, “your brain needs to chill.” poking the top of your head with the blunt tip of his pencil lightly.

you raise your head just enough to glare at him from under your lashes. “you need to chill. i’ve never seen anyone highlight so neatly.”

wonwoo shrugs, the corners of his lips twitching. “if you did the math, you'd figure out it comes with being class rank one.” he tuts, raising his index finger to form the number '1'.

“show-off.”

“i’m literally staying after classes to help you pass.” he drones.

you purse your lips, but the smile slips through anyway. truthfully, you didn’t mind the tutoring sessions. wonwoo was easy to be around. calm. quiet. had a weird habit of fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves when he explained things, and sometimes his voice would drop so low you’d have to lean closer to hear.

which maybe wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“okay,” he says, tapping his pen gently against your notebook, “let’s try this again. pretend x is your crush—what would you do to isolate him?”

you blink at him, deadpan. “wonwoo.”

“what? make math personal.” he shrugs, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. of course.

“are you seriously making this a metaphor about my love life?”

he smirks, not looking up from the problem he’s scribbling out, adjusting his glasses on the tip of his nose bridge. “do you have one?” the reflection of his glasses glint.

you shove him lightly, but your face feels warm. you shrug off your flustered state, focusing back on your paper.

aaaaand maybe hisvoicethatguidesyouthroughit.

the library’s nearly empty now, just the two of you and the sound of pages turning and pens scratching paper. the sun’s already dipped low, casting golden shadows through the tall windows. you glance at your watch. 5:47PM. you should probably pack up.

“hey,” he says suddenly, voice softer now, “you got this one and this one right.” pointing to two different problems on the sheet of paper.

you blink. “really?” completely unaware of how you managed to finish off all the problems provided by your math professor within an hour. maybe three without wonwoo, but a win's a win.

wonwoo nods, then looks at you—really looks at you this time. “yeah. you just needed someone patient.”

you hold his gaze, surprised by how serious he sounds. and for a second, something shifts. just a little.

a silence stretches between you, but not an uncomfortable one. the kind that hums with something unspoken. maybe you’re imagining it. maybe not.

he clears his throat and starts gathering his things. “same time next week?”

you nod. “yeah. same time.”

as you walk out of the library together, your arms barely brushing, you wonder if x is still something you're looking for in your life—or if x wears glasses and a blue blazer.

a/n: hopefully the ending line is not too cringey, i hate math and im a cs major 😓☝️ the hot babes in stem that get it, get it !!

[ink-perfect]

obsessed bf!gojo x gn!reader ⋆. based on: 22 - lil candy paint, bhad bhabie

gojo had a bad habit.

a bad habit of blowing up your phone.

it wasn’t the 'three texts in a row' kind of blowing up, either.

oh no, gojo satoru didn’t do small-scale chaos.

it was an art form for him. the type of masterpiece that made your phone buzz off your nightstand at 3 a.m. with thirty consecutive messages that alternated between blurry selfies, close-ups of his sunglasses, and texts like:

“hey👋 (with the intention of getting midnight sushi)”

“do u think panda would let me dye him pink? 🤔”

“pick up plzzz i jsut saw the funniest video on instagram but i accidnetally exited tje app it and cant find it anymore so i'm jsut going to explain it to you in excruciatign detail”

and tonight was no different—except this time, it came after your first real argument.

you couldn’t even remember what had set it off anymore, but it had ended with you storming off and gojo… well, doing whatever gojo does when someone’s mad at him (eating mochi and sulking).

soon enough, after an hour or so of no contact, the first barrage had begun: thirty consecutive texts ranging from the initial

“i’m sorry 🥺👉👈”

to a dramatic

“why do you hate me? 😭💔 (don't answer that.)”

you’d ignored all of them, determined to let him stew.

but then the calls begun.

ring after ring, voicemail after voicemail, starting out with intense professions of love that slowly faded into desperate pleas for you to call him back, text him back, to respond just once.

and when those went unanswered too, he escalated.

your phone buzzed on your nightstand, flashing yet another text. this time, it came with a photo—gojo lying facedown on what appeared to be megumi’s couch, his hand clutching an empty box of tissues. the caption read:

“i’ve been crying for 84 years 😢 come back pls”

you rolled your eyes, but found the corner of your mouth twitching up despite yourself. he was impossible.

another buzz. this one said,

“fine if ur not gonna answer just know ur the light of my life and i’ll literally wither away like an unwatered houseplant if u don’t forgive me soon 😭 also ur socks are still in my room do u want me to wash them or nah”

the buzz after that said,

“actually nah i'm not bothered to wash them"

and then another buzz.

"also u look hotter when ur mad 🥰”

the audacity of this man.

you let your impulses get the better of you and texted back a stern "leave. me. alone."

and not even a second later, your phone screen lit up with gojo's face for the umpteenth time.

you groaned, snatching it up and finally swiping to answer to put an end to all of this.

“gojo, what part of ‘leave me alone’ don’t you understand?!”

“oh my god,” he gasped, his voice overflowing with fake relief. “you’re alive!”

“i—”

“you weren’t answering, so i thought maybe you’d been kidnapped! or fallen down a well! or—”

“i ignored you,” you interrupted sharply. “on purpose.”

“no yeah, i got that,” he said breezily, completely unfazed. “but we're talking now! the devil sure does work hard, but gojo works harderrrrr."

"gojo—"

"so, how much did ya miss me?”

"gojo."

"also did you see my text about the socks?”

"gojo!"

“aaaaand i’m outside your window by the way.”

“you’re what?”

“outside!” he chirped back like it was the most normal thing in the world.

sure enough, when you yanked open your curtains, there he was—gojo satoru, standing on your lawn in a hoodie two sizes too big, clutching a mismatched bouquet of convenience store snacks and flowers that you could just tell he had made himself.

“ta-da~!” he grinned into the phone as you watched him hold up the haul like it was an olympic medal. “i come bearing gifts!”

you gawked at him. “are you serious?”

“deadly,” he said, his smile widening so much you could even see it from your vantage point. “i brought your favourite snacks, and also, i stole these flowers from my neighbour’s garden. don’t tell anyone.”

“oh my god.” you smacked your forehead, torn between laughing and drawing your curtains shut. “it’s three in the morning.”

“yeah, well, you didn’t answer my texts,” he said, pouting dramatically. “do you have any idea how sad that made me? i’m so sad, baby, like, devastated. i swear i saw my life flash before my eyes.”

you folded your arms, mock unimpressed. “what’s sad is that you think this is going to work.”

“it’s already working,” he shot back smugly. “you’re talking to me, aren’t you?”

you hated that he was right. you hated even more that your annoyance was quickly being replaced by amusement. he was lucky he was cute.

“toru, just go home,” you sighed, though your voice lacked its earlier venom.

“not until you forgive me,” he declared, dropping to one knee with such theatrics you were surprised broadway hadn't whisked him away already. “or at least let me in so i can grovel properly.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“yeah. unbelievably in love with you.”

you threw a pillow at the window, even though it wouldn’t reach him, giving yourself a minute to think.

okay, more like a few seconds.

to be fair, you were sure he had learnt his lesson. and, well...you were craving ramen, which happened to be placed front and centre in his haphazard bouquet.

“fine!" you whisper-yelled into the phone, a smile already creeping its way onto your face despite your best efforts to stay mad. "but if you wake up my neighbours, i swear i'm locking you out.”

his grin practically lit up the yard. “deal!”

and just like that, you were stomping down the stairs, blanket in hand, ready to let in the most exasperating, ridiculous, adorable man you’d ever met.

because, really, how could you stay mad at him?

masterlist

© ink-perfect; est. 2024.

[seungcheorry]

cherrytober ❤️🍒: day 08 - lee seokmin

seokmin + tying your shoelaces

seokmin is very loud with the way he loves - he’s always vocal about how much he cares for you, how he doesn’t mind going out of his way just to make you smile. tell him you want him at a rooftop screaming “i love my partner” for the whole city to listen and he’ll do it, no questions asked.

still, it’s the subtle moments that make you flutter. it’s when he takes something out of your face when you didn’t notice it was there; it’s when he hands you a drink without you even asking; it’s when-

“should we go check if they still have that jacket?”, seokmin points at a store across the street, the one that had this leather jacket you were eyeing some while ago.

“it’s summer, i’m not gonna wear the jacket”, you shrug.

“it’s summer, it means they’ll be giving a discount, i’m sure”, and it’s cute how seokmin wiggles his eyebrows at you.

you laugh, nodding at him. just checking wouldn’t hurt, right?

as you pull seokmin to cross the road with you, he stops you, pulling you back to the nearest wall. before you can even ask what’s going on, seokmin drops to one knee.

“what-”

“these shoelaces are too loose, it’s the second time they untie”, he says, like it’s nothing.

seokmin makes sure to tie your laces twice, doing the same with its other pair - and they weren’t even untied.

“baby, get up”, you tell him, looking around.

“aaaaand… done”, he comes back to your eye level, a stupid, silly grin on his face. “let’s go.”