#also expect spelling mistakes

[popscotchm]

ok so we all know what Hunter used as a fake name in this scene right

Caleb Jasper Bloodwilliams

Caleb was his ortet, lots of people use the name Jasper for one of the other Guards, but with the pilot and bible having been released I noticed something.

His beta name was William.

like Bloodwilliams

there probably isn't a canon explanation or any relevancy for this it's just something i noticed and thought was a cool reference

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

i still cannot believe that people consider having lovers outside of a political marriage as cheating

a lot can be discussed about how raging misogyny and the patriarchy in westeros has led to unequal standards for women to uphold and suffer from

as highborn women are not allowed the same sexual freedom that highborn men get to experience, and even if these women do have relationships outside of their marriages, they are usually scorned and shunned by society for daring to practice sexual autonomy

it’s unfair, i am very aware of this fact

(that’s why i’ll never understand team green stans)

but george has never ever condemned his characters for finding and experiencing love outside of doing their duty.

never.

we’re not unfeeling machines that lack emotions. we’re humans who are, more often than not, led by our hearts. and grrm does a phenomenal job when creating characters, as they truly feel human.

so yeah, it’s a bit disappointing that people dumb down what is clearly a very complex situation to “cheating” (btw george himself calls rhaegar and elias relationship complex and he’s never implied that they loved each other in a romantic sense).

to reiterate, i am well aware that highborn women and men are held to different standards, however, if you have a problem with characters working through, around, and sometimes failing to overcome the social structures that cause their suffering, then you must have a major issue with george’s exploration of the human heart in conflict with itself.

george’s characters aren’t robots and that’s what makes them interesting. they do things for very human reasons. they’re biased. they’re traumatized. they’re conflicted. but they’re still reaching for a better tomorrow and they’re still trying to find happiness.

so i’ll never consider rhaegar and lyannas relationship as cheating, or something unsightly that should be scorned. for they simply dared to find and grasp love in a society that would rather shackle them to unhappy marriages, which is very commendable.

oh… and do you know what george does criticize?

political marriages lol

he makes it clear that selling women off as broodmares and forcing men into marriages they don’t want is a recipe for disaster.

of course the eventual fallouts of these relationships is super interesting to read about, but you should never ever support the systems in place and the societies that benefit from pushing people/characters into these incredibly unhealthy relationships

so while i find it interesting to read about characters navigating these relationships, i’ll always be the first person to condemn these societies for forcing this fate onto them. i’ll also always be the first person to root for characters who do their best to find happiness outside of their political/arranged marriage

sorry that i don’t condemn a character for finding love outside of a loveless marriage

instead of getting angry at rhaegar and lyanna and being very nonsensical in the main tags about it, how about you turn that anger onto the patriarchy, which is rooted in every single institution and family in westeros, the patriarchy that refuses to allow women to have the same amount of sexual autonomy as men?

(this is why i despise team green :))

[cthoniccompanion]

maybe icarus went through with melinoë's plan because he assumed if something went wrong the consequences would be his to suffer, not hers

he's already dead. what else can be done? if he disappears, that's that. he wouldn't want her to get hurt, but she's a goddess. she's a powerful witch. wouldn't she be invincible in icarus's eyes?

and then he's horribly wrong

[griancraft]

I love Jonnit so much he’s so fucking cool,, him and Travis are REALLY fun god. I just finished episode 8 which is, so so early in this.

[morewoe]

a  girl,  a  ghost,  a  god,  the  story  of  myranda  karstark

Act  One  -  A  Gift 

In  the  hour  of  ghosts,  a  babe  was  found  at  Karhold's  gate,  screaming  into  the  cold  air,  a  shock  of  brown  hair  and  eyes  as  blue  as  winter,  wrapped  in  threadbare  blankets.  No  note,  no  name,  no  family  in  sight,  and  no  way  to  identify  her.  Thought  to  be  six  moons  old,  and  outwardly  perfect,  though  initially  inconsolable.  She  was  brought  into  the  castle,  and  quietened  almost  immediately.  Nearby  towns  were  searched,  but  when  no  one  claimed  the  infant,  there  remained  only  one  question  -  what  would  be  done  with  her?

Maybe  in  another  story,  this  would  be  where  it  ended.  A  nameless  girl  in  an  orphanage,  destined  for  a  nameless  life.  Safe,  maybe,  though  no  one  moved  through  life  entirely  unscathed.  Instead,  she  was  left  with  the  Karstarks.  Whether  the  one  who  left  her  knew  what  they  were  doing  will  never  be  known.  Whispers  said  the  old  gods  themselves  delivered  her  to  safety,  left  with  Lord  and  Lady  Karstark,  who  took  the  girl  in  as  their  own,  all  memory  of  a  past  life  burnt,  along  with  the  blanket  she'd  been  wrapped  in.  The  babe  settled  in  the  arms  of  her  new  family,  too  young  to  remember  the  ones  who  left  her,  too  young  to  grieve,  and  yet  somehow  a  sadness  clung  to  her  like  woodsmoke.

Act  Two  -  A  Ghost

They  called  her  Myranda,  gave  her  their  name,  gave  her  their  protection.  She  grew,  at  first  into  a  serious  toddler,  who  seldom  spoke  and  seldom  cried,  except  when  she  thought  herself  being  left  behind.  From  there  she  became  a  lanky  child  with  unsettlingly  large  eyes  and  bitten  lips,  a  girl  who  spent  more  time  in  the  godswood  than  inside,  bowed  before  the  weirwood,  entirely  still  and  entirely  silent.  Something  about  the  cold  air  in  her  lungs  was  comforting.  She  barely  made  noise  as  she  slid  through  the  halls,  clung  to  shadows  like  they  were  her  mother's  skirts,  listened  to  conversations  a  child  had  no  business  being  a  part  of.  She  did  not  play  with  other  children,  instead  choosing  to  watch,  the  same  level  of  intense  focus  only  otherwise  given  to  maester's  lessons.  No  disdain,  or  haughty  attitude.  Just  fastidious  study.  She  was  half  ghost,  half  something  else,  like  a  sheet  of  ice  stood  between  her  and  the  rest  of  the  world,  in  all  areas  but  one.

With  her  family,  the  curtain  fell.  The  unsettling  quiet  gave  way  to  something  soft,  something  warm.  Words  were  spoken  freely,  with  no  care  as  to  what  the  rest  of  the  world  may  think,  and  no  need  to  hide  in  shadows.  Her  family  knew  her,  and  she  knew  them.  She  loved  her  parents,  and  her  siblings,  loved  them  like  she  remembered  the  pain  of  not  having  them,  like  she  remembered  a  time  before  them.  She  didn't,  couldn't,  though  not  for  trying.  But  trying  to  remember  the  life  before  them  felt  like  a  disservice  to  the  family  who  loved  her,  the  family  who  never  left  her.  They  were  not  her  family  by  blood,  but  by  name,  and  that  felt  more  important  to  Myranda.  They  had  chosen  to  give  her  their  name,  they  didn't  have  to.  And  every  day  that  passed,  she  felt  more  indebted  to  them.

Act  Three  -  A  Girl

As  womanhood  approached,  something  about  Karhold  started  to  chafe,  the  well-read  books,  the  hallways  she  could  walk  blindfolded,  the  trails  she  had  ridden  time  and  again.  The  girl  wanted  to  experience  the  things  she  had  only  read  about.  She'd  ride,  until  her  body  ached  and  the  sun  was  low  in  the  sky,  and  thoughts  of  her  future  were  banished.  She  travelled,  only  ever  above  the  Neck,  but  she  made  it  feel  as  though  it  was  a  tale  from  a  book,  a  new  adventure,  a  new  experience.  She  never  fully  shed  the  awkwardness  of  youth,  always  either  too  quiet  or  too  loud,  too  much  or  too  little.  Sometimes  she'd  look  at  a  person,  or  through  them  with  her  mind  a  million  miles  away.  Sometimes  the  very  seams  of  her  clothes  were  too  much  for  her,  making  her  want  nothing  more  than  to  shed  her  skin.  Days  spent  in  bed,  the  whole  world  just  too  loud  for  her  to  deal  with.  She  had  no  name  to  put  to  the  feeling,  but  felt  it  all  the  same,  deep  in  her  bones,  no  matter  how  she  tried  to  ignore  it.

In  that  solitary  time,  she  started  to  wander  about  her  future.  The  second  child,  the  spare.  She  wanted  something  hers,  something  that  could  never  be  taken  from  her,  but  she  couldn't  covet  her  older  sibling's  burden.  She  knew  she  would  have  to  marry,  eventually.  It  was  her  duty,  to  her  family  and  to  her  name,  to  find  a  match  that  matched  their  station,  that  brought  alliance  to  the  house,  that  made  her  parents  proud.  And  yet,  she  put  it  off.  To  be  known  meant  having  to  be  seen,  to  risk  the  chance  of  someone  looking,  and  looking  away.  She  pushes  it  away,  plenty  of  time  to  form  a  plan  she  tells  herself.

Myranda  throws  herself  into  her  writing  instead.  Signs  every  poem,  every  scrap,  every  small  thought  with  her  name,  the  desperate  attempt  to  leave  a  part  of  herself  behind,  even  if  she  never  allows  a  single  soul  to  read  them.  They're  stacked  under  her  bed,  in  her  wardrobe,  buried  deep  in  pockets  and  hidden  in  drawers,  every  touch  of  ink  to  paper  kept.  She  reads  everything  she  can  get  her  hands  on,  from  epics  to  folklore  to  history.  Dusty  tomes  and  newly  published  stories,  stacked  high  and  loved  deeply,  read  deep  into  the  night  until  her  candle  has  burned  out  and  she  can  barely  keep  eyes  open.  If  she  cannot  have  an  epic  story,  she  will  read  them  until  they  invade  dreams.

Act  Four  -  A  God

Over  the  years  the  weirwood  becomes  her  closest  friend.  A  face  that  had  never  judged  her,  never  cringed  or  looked  away.  Always  there,  steadfast.  The  first  place  she  goes  to  every  time  she  returns  home,  the  last  place  she  visits  every  night  before  retiring  to  her  rooms.  She  knows  every  knot,  every  limb,  every  branch,  every  line  in  its  face.  She  faces  the  cold  to  see  her  friend  daily,  snow  or  sleet  or  hail  or  rain.  She  receives  no  more  signs  from  the  old  gods  than  any  other  worshipper,  her  devotion  brings  her  no  reward,  and  yet  she  persists.  She  thanks  them  for  her  blessings,  for  the  family  who  kept  her,  for  the  warmth  of  her  bed  and  the  food  in  her  belly  and  the  soft  life  she  has,  safe  in  the  comforts  of  Karhold.  She  prays  for  guidance,  for  knowledge,  for  wisdom  over  all.  For  the  bravery  of  the  heroes  of  old,  who  did  what  had  to  be  done,  and  didn't  look  back.  She  prays  for  the  safety  of  those  she  loves,  terrified  every  moment  that  they  might  be  ripped  from  her.  And  sometimes,  she  doesn't  pray  at  all,  simply  sitting  in  the  silence  and  allowing  the  presence  to  be  a  comfort.  It  is  habit,  and  conviction,  and  compulsion.

Sometimes,  when  Myranda  is  alone,  with  only  her  thoughts  and  a  fire  to  keep  her  company,  she  thinks  she  can  remember  someone.  Brown  curls  like  hers,  a  warm  smile,  the  scent  of  rosemary  wrapping  her  like  a  blanket.  Of  course,  she  knows  she  was  too  young  to  form  those  memories,  that  they're  wishes  made  true  by  a  young  mind  and  an  active  imagination.  Hopes  that  were  never  spoken,  for  the  risk  of  sounding  ungrateful.  It  doesn't  stop  her  from  searching  every  crowd  for  blue  eyes  like  hers,  in  the  hopes  that  one  day  she'd  find  someone  who  shared  her  blood.  She  wonders  if  they  think  about  her,  if  they  know  where  she  is.  She  prays  to  the  weirwood  for  a  sign,  begs  her  friend  for  something  to  point  the  way,  and  nothing  comes.  No  one  is  listening.  She  prays  anyway.

fin - end

tl;dr  attachment  issues  in  human  form,  the  sense  of  being  indebted  to  those  who  took  you  in,  "If  we  want  the  rewards  of  being  loved  we  have  to  submit  to the  mortifying  ordeal  of  being  known", and  a  slight  hoarding  problem.

[lryghe]

MDZS thoughts; lan wangji

The longer I spend in the MDZS fandom, the more I realise how much I like Lan Wangji’s character in forms of adaptations (despite my general avoidance of anything that isn’t the novel). At first, Lan Wangji is introduced as just some uptight loser, but the more the story progresses, the more you realise he’s YOUR uptight loser and you like that about him. I wanted to talk about a few of my favourite things about him because he’s so so so complex, something that MXTX unfortunately forgot to give her later love interests (not a jab, just an observation of someone who mourns a Hua Cheng backstory every day). This post will contain spoilers from all adaptations of MDZS and this thought process comes as an apology of sorts to Lan Wangji after I flamed him in my last post. 

on silence;

I’ve talked about this extensively in my ‘MDZS thoughts; silence in MDZS’ post a while back, but Wangji’s use of silence is so important. Because there’s different types of silence, born out of different reasons, and Lan Wangji employs the most basic form of it for the most part. He’s quite literally silent majority of the time, and it’s so interesting to think about because it's like. He clearly has thoughts and feelings and personal motivations past what people expect of him, but never voices them. He’s seemingly content with his silence, knowing that there ARE people who understand him, even if it’s like 3 people. And people must expect so much of Lan Wangji, the ‘bearer of light’ Hanguang-jun, the second jade of Lan, brother of the Lan Sect Leader, the perfect man. Yet he never speaks out about these expectations, a surprisingly mature response for some guy who’s a teenager for most of this. Younger Lan Wangji is surrounded by people and yet is silent throughout his time in Cloud Recesses and in the aftermath of the Wen invasion. And I think this particular silence is borne of him knowing that no one will really listen to him, because they all have these grandiose ideas of who he is and how he’ll react, so he sticks to his lines (ha, or lack thereof) and continues onwards. Once we hit the time skip, Wangji very clearly gives off a different vibe, despite not being any chattier than he was before. This one is a confident, more isolated silence, having been worn down by a decade of grief and death, Lan Wangji is now silently assured in himself and his place in the world. 

on grief; 

On the topic of grief, the way Lan Wangji’s grief is portrayed is something that I see a lot of newer fans (I say this as a fan of 4-5 years now, I am no amateur) have not exactly a wrong idea about, but more of an uneducated view on? Because it's always, “I love the MXTX protagonists and how they wait for 5/ 13/ 800 years”, but MDZS is something entirely different from SVSSS and TGCF. Hua Cheng actually waits for 800 years with endless devotion and patience, Luo Binghe’s ‘wait’ is driven by delusions and a demon sword driving him crazy, but Lan Wangji is inherently different from them both. Because Lan Wangji doesn’t wait for Wei Wuxian, he’s actively mourning him. 13 years of playing inquiry was because he believed him to be dead, and just wanted to have a second to speak to his spirit. Going wherever there was chaos wasn’t to find Wei Wuxian himself, but to find situations which reminded him of him, even if it was just a second of something happening that would make him feel closer to the boy he fell in love with. Lan Wangji was never waiting for Wei Wuxian to come back, because he’s surprisingly mature about everything and knew that he was gone when he found nothing at the burial mounds. And it’s slightly upsetting when people ignore his mourning in favour of some type of optimism that he doesn’t have any more that Wei Wuxian would come back, because that’s doing such a disservice to him and his character. 

on isolation; 

Something that relates back to the concept of silence is Lan Wangji’s continued isolation throughout the novel. Because he’s introduced as like this pillar of righteousness (which he genuinely is, he’s an actually good guy), and this image is only furthered the more he continues on with life. He’s always emitting an aura of “ice and frost” towards everyone, and people have been placing him on a pedestal since he was 14, “every word and action of his set as examples of excellence”. And this must be such an isolating experience, you being at your formative years and you are still so alone, mostly out of your own actions, but also because no one wants to make an effort to know you past that exterior. And it is an exterior, because Wei Wuxian notes rather early on that Lan Wangji can simply just “become” the indifferent Hanguang-jun, this (mostly) self-imposed mask being what drives a wedge between Lan Wangji and just about everyone, notable outliers being Wei Wuxian and that’s it. I did a lot of rereading the introduction of the novel to find the quotes I used, because I really wanted to emphasise this point of his character, because it's so damn interesting! He’s so complex and the three points I’ve defined and explored are only at the surface level of what I could have rambled on about. But I’m nice and have toned it down. 

This post turned into a love letter to Lan Wangji and I’m not sorry at all. If there’s any mistakes, feel free to call me out (but nicely because I’m very sensitive).  

Words: 964 

Reading time: 3 mins 

[harajuku-cookie]

It's late at night, I can't sleep, so I went onto IkeVamp. I was looking for a card to put on my homepage and I tapped on this Isaac card to listen to the line and this one made a spicy thought pop into my head.

18+ || Minors do not interact

Imagine Isaac holding you in a hug from behind. He's cuddled up close and rests his head on your shoulder when he catches the scent of your blood. The aroma of it is so tempting to Isaac and as he nuzzles his nose into your neck, he utters this line. You get flustered at first before a small teasing smirk appears on your face. Lifting a hand to run your fingers lightly through his hair, you gently push him closer to your neck, telling him, "Take a bite then."

Like the snake that tempted Eve to bite into the apple, Isaac gives in. He gives your neck a couple of light kisses before sinking his fangs in. The pain lasts a second before your body is overrun with ecstasy. Pleasure courses through you as Isaac drinks his fill, moans spilling out from your lips. Your body starts to writhe, your backside unintentionally bumping against Isaac's hips. Combined with the sounds you're making, a bulge starts to form in his pants. The arms wrapped around your waist start to wander, one hand going up to cup one of your breasts and giving it a squeeze, the other holding onto one side of your hip to keep your flush against him to keep grinding against one another.

The aphrodisiac effect of his bite combined with him all of you starts to become too much, pleading with Isaac to do something. Not wanting you to pass out from taking too much blood and his body craving something else, he pulls his fangs out of your neck. You're left panting for a couple of seconds before Isaac turns your face to the side to share a deep kiss, hands still feeling all around your body until he pulls your skirt up from behind. You know what's coming next as he maneuvers your body to brace against the nearest surface and pulls your panties down your legs. You hear the familiar sound of a belt coming undone and then feel the head of his cock running along your slick folds before sinking inside, both of your moaning loudly from the feeling. You didn't expect an innocent cuddle to lead to this, but you're not complaining as Isaac starts to move his hips, starting out slowly and eventually picking up the pace and pounding into you from behind.

…..

And that's all I got before I combust from how hard I'm blushing. I leave you with that late night horny thought, good night!

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

arabic exam done :)

[macaroni-and-pebbles]

The Agony is starting again and anything I post after this point is no longer my fault

btw I’m ranting a lot in tags so like ignore that

[maddy-ferguson]

i'm studying with notes that aren't mine and tell me why the person uses parentheses ( like this ) i genuinely think there's something wrong with them

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Damian is de-aged to a baby and lost in Gotham. A magic user hit him with some kind of spell. His legs don’t work as well and he has trouble walking. That’s when a man appears and squats down with a tilt of his head.

“Yea, you are definitely not supposed to be out here, little guy.”

Damian glares at the man, early twenties, stubble along his jaw, ragged clothes, and dark bags under his eyes.

The man turns his head to look at the brick wall.

“Are you sure?”

And now he was talking to a wall. Curses. Of course he would be found by a crazy person.

The man suddenly hangs his head with a deep sigh. He regains himself quickly and stands. Moving closer to put his hands under Damian arms to lift him to perch on his hip.

Damian squirms to get down but refuses to make a sound. The last time he opened his mouth like this it was a pathetic baby sound. He couldn’t let this man see him like this.

“Looks like you’re coming home with me, little guy. I can tell you’ve got some spirit in you. Good, you’ll need it.”

Not ominous at all.

Damian stays with the man, mostly because he couldn’t physically drive a car, but also because he was almost always with him. The man would talk to air at the most random times. Obviously a schizophrenic. But Damian had to admit this man, Danny he comes to find out through a neighbor baby talking at him, has been genuinely trying to take care of him and take care of him well. Well, to the best of his abilities anyway. 

He feeds him organic purées that don’t taste half bad, except the carrots, that one was unacceptable. Danny cleans him regularly despite his crappy apartment and makes sure he is dressed appropriately for the weather. He makes an effort to take him out to the park to play in the sandbox or just walk around discovering ‘new’ things.

Damian doesn’t need a parent, he outgrew the concept when he was five and technically he already had one, but he could tell Danny would make an excellent father. Some mistakes can be overlooked compared to the effort he was putting in.

The only concerning thing was the talking to thin air. It took Damian an embarrassing amount of time to figure out the reason Danny was visiting all these random people and the graveyard. (Sometimes he will set Damian down to ‘play’ in the grass at the cemetery. It was quite odd.)

He was talking to ghosts. It wasn’t thin air or imaginary friends, no it was actually dead people. The reason Damian actually believes this is for two reasons.

One, Danny shows true results. Damian observes closely whenever they visit a ‘client’ and Danny always has accurate information despite never looking up or researching anything going in.

Two, he never calls himself a medium or psychic. He doesn’t boast about his ability to see ghosts. He does what he does to help the ghosts move on to the other side. Closure is what Danny always says. Closure for the family and the victim. In Gotham, there are a lot of victims.

Damian adjusts to his new life with Danny. It’s been five months and he’s getting used to being small and vulnerable. He’s allowed to be messy and whiny and childish. Danny never scolds him like Mother did. The man has never hit him or raised his voice at him and never expects anything from him. He encourages his progression to speak and walk, but doesn’t expect the best out of him.

It’s… nice. A good break if anything.

They are at the park when one of the bats spot him and pauses. Danny is blowing bubbles into the air and Damian tries to pop as many as he can. It’s a silly game with no clear rules, but Damian finds it entertaining nonetheless.

“Hi there! Is he yours?”

Dick Grayson wears a bright smile, but Damian can see the tightness around his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, yea, this is Damian,” Danny answers.

He had written it with the wooden blocks Danny had given him one week in. Danny took one look at the name on the ground, laughed loudly and ran with it.

“Do you mind if I say hi? He’s so cute.”

Danny looks puzzled by the request but ends up shrugging his shoulders, not seeing a problem with letting a stranger get close to Damian. (Damian knew Danny’s intense eyes were watching Dick’s every move. He was very protective like that.)

“Sure.”

Dick squats down to search Damian’s green eyes. Damian stares back just as intensely.

“Hey there, Damian. My name is Dick.”

Damian gives him a flat look at Dick’s terrible introduction.

“Grayson.”

Although with his little baby teeth not fully in it sounds more like ‘way-shah’.

Relief flashes across Dick’s face and he gives Damian a reassuring smile. It’s not as reassuring at he thinks it is. It promises to bring him home and restore him to his original age. Damian doesn’t know if that’s what he wants anymore.

Dick stands and gives Danny some imaginary excuse to leave quickly. Damian watches him go and so does Danny.

“Funny guy, huh Dami?”

Damian doesn’t respond and Danny notices his change in mood.

“Come here, little guy.”

He knows what Danny is going to do and willingly goes. He is pulled up into the man’s lap and held between two surprisingly muscular arms. Danny’s hugs are nice and warm. They aren’t too tight like Dick’s nor are they stiff like Bruce’s. He never thought he could enjoy human contact, but Danny has been showing him things about himself he didn’t ever know. Turns out he does like hugs and playing airplane and when Danny runs his fingers through his hair when he’s really sleepy.

“Let’s go home a little early today, huh? I’ll make spaghetti and you can be as messy as you want,” Danny promises.

Damian hums. Yes, that sounds nice.

That night Batman comes in through the window. Damian is waiting.

“Damian,” Batman whispers.

“Bah-mun.”

The flat, unamused stare is what gives him away.

Batman lets out a breath silently and reaches into the crib Danny had gotten him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Batman jerks into action, twisting to face Danny who had appeared suddenly. The door behind him is still closed.

Batman stays quiet, silently studying the man before him dressed in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.

Danny tilts his head as he does the same. Damian has never seen the man so serious. He silently worries for the man. He didn’t want him getting hurt to unnecessarily protecting him from his father.

“I’d have to break your arm if you tried to do what it looks like you’re doing.”

Danny says it so plainly. So simple.

Batman straightens.

“He isn’t yours.”

He doesn’t say Damian is his. He doesn’t claim him as his own. Just that Danny shouldn’t have him.

Damian silently agrees because technically he’s right. He doesn’t deserve Danny. He can’t keep playing house like he’s an actual baby. But Damian is also selfish and over the last few months has been taught that it’s okay to ask for things he wants even if it’s not inherently beneficial. The stuffed dog he sleeps with every night is proof of that.

So Damian says nothing.

“He is now,” Danny answers simply like there was no other answer to such a statement.

“He needs to go back to where he belongs.”

“Over my dead body,” is the immediate response.

They stare each other down until Danny scoffs.

“Don’t think I’m not petty enough to fight you, Batman. I’ll fight anyone who wants to take him from me. Damian is mine.”

When Batman tries to forcibly take him, he ends up with a concussion, a blood nose, and two broken arms. Red Robin finds him in a dumpster the next morning.

The story continues with Damian learning how to be a child his age, Danny protecting him and doting on his brilliant son, and the Batfam’s frequent failed attempts to kidnap Damian back to them.

[slvttyplum]

✰ don’t take your panties off | satoru gojo

synopsis: you made a mistake and didn’t wear panties to bed, now you’re facing the consequences.

contents: cnc, smut, lowercase spelling.

don’t take your panties off when sleeping; just don't. it’ll create a problem in the middle of the night that you aren’t ready to solve.

this particular night was a little too warm; only a gust of wind passed by every few seconds, and the fan was broken.

the electrician didn’t come until thursday, and it was tuesday night, and wearing an oversize shirt with nothing under it wasn’t a big deal.

you slipped under the covers and drifted off to sleep. satoru was working late that night, so there was no need to wait for him.

a few hours later, you were awakened by a hand smoothing and caressing your thigh, a hand nudging against your ass, and something sticking to your entrance.

you blinked a few times, clearing out the blurriness, before turning your head. all you could see in your peripheral was white hair.

“satoru?” you let out softly, just to make sure that was actually him. it was already dark, but the bright moon was letting out some illumination through the blinds.

the response back was just a hum; his hand was still caressing your side, and the “stick” that was poking your entrance was finally entering.

“the polite thing would be to respond back when i ask if it was you.” a defeated sigh ripping past your lips, and his forehead tapping your shoulder.

“sorry, im a little tired.” his rough voice and the warm vanilla scent, letting you know he just got out of the shower.

your thoughts were interrupted when he thrust into you with full force, your hand scrambling to hold onto the sheets.

“so am i, so why do you wanna do this now?" his length deep inside you from the position the both of you were in.

fucking from the side always made his dick go further, especially when you fucked back.

it was true that satoru just got back home not too long ago, and it’s also true that he was tired, but he couldn’t resist you.

when he first came home, his first priority was to eat, but not before checking if you were dead or not.

when he opened the door, there you were, sprawled on your side of the bed, one of your legs spread up, exposing your bare ass.

a lump forming in his throat from the sexy sight. he didn’t expect you to be this bold; whenever you wore an oversized shirt, you wore panties, so this was different.

swallowing the lump inside his throat, he quietly walks to your side of the bed, leaning down and placing a kiss on your cheek.

your sleeping face making him blush was always so cute when you slept; too bad he was going to ruin that.

sleeping so innocently, he felt bad for what he was about to do. yeah, he could’ve woken you up, but it was already late, so why not make it quick?

of course he wasn’t going to fuck you when he just came home from working and sweating all day, so he hopped in the shower and came out.

quickly sliding into bed and pulling his briefs down, not before sticking his fingers in your heat, sliding them out, and looking at them.

an amused scoff erupting from his mouth. you were wet. as hell, what in the world were you thinking about?

he took no time to line himself up with your entrance, your body jolting from the random touch.

“i just love you so much," he says, laughing softly, responding to your previous question, and pushing into you again, the wet noise making him even harder.

a moan slips past your lips, your eyes still closed, and satoru’s touch sends shivers down your spine.

your body is now more sensitive since there was no time to prepare, even though your pussy was practically leaking.

his head moved to the crook of your neck as he kissed, then slid his tongue over a spot, your hand clenching the sheet even more.

his warm breath traveled down your neck to your shoulder, placing a few small kisses there. the softness of his kisses made you smile.

the pace is getting sloppier and harder as he pushes into you deeper, causing you to gasp and cough. the change in pace is making your eyes roll back.

“softer.” your hand reaching back to push his stomach, so he slides out of you, but he takes your wrist, gripping it.

a whine coming from your lips as you squint your eyes shut, your thighs clenching, and your stomach turning from the pleasure.

“you can take it.” he grunts out, his jaw clenched and his face still on your shoulder.

another whimper comes from your mouth, then a moan follows as he presses into your sweet spot, the tingly feeling dispersing all around your body.

his hand gripping your wrist even harder, your shoulder and wrist aching from the tightness he was putting on, causing your walls to clench.

satoru kisses your shoulder again, then licks over the spot, his eyes flicking to your face, your lewd expressions making him harder.

“i’m sorry.” he lets out, pushing deeper inside you, repeated sloppy thrusts into your wet cunt.

tiny curses escaping his mouth as he gets faster, your breasts bouncing up and down from how fast he’s going.

the headboard hitting the wall repeatedly, his tip getting deeper and deeper inside you, and your eyes opening from the final thrust.

a cough falling out of your mouth as you feel warm liquid feel you up, his dick slowly sliding out of you.

his body that was previously pressed against you, leaning back and letting go of your wrist.

leaning down, he takes a finger sliding over your opening, cum coating his finger and a smile dancing on his lips.

you quickly get up, spreading your legs, and looking at the sight, a vein could be seen popping up in your forehead.

“fucking dick!” you scream out, quickly sliding the pillow behind you and hitting him repeatedly, cursing him out.

he’s laughing, curled up, and holding his stomach, deciding to just suffer the consequences.

you’re never going to go to bed without panties again.

[writersblockiskillingme]

Hook with the daughter of Ariel or something like that. With them being in a secret little relationship but he’s always trying to come up to her and flirt with her. Maybe Uliana finds out and freaks out the rest is up to you

Secret | James Hook

Pairing: James Hook x fem!reader (Ariel's!sister!reader)

Summary: Once Uliana figures out your secret, everything comes crushing down.

Warning/s: angst, but with a happy ending, fluff, keeping secrets, fight, short fic, possible grammar and/or spelling mistakes

Author's note: It's here, hope you enjoy!! Also, I made the reader Ariel's sister because in my head, it fits the timeline.

Honestly, nobody had any idea how it happened. You were Ariel's sister. He was a pirate. How in the world did you manage to end up together?!

Well... truth to be told... it happened so suddenly, just like when the storm in the middle of the sea happens. Nobody really expects it, but it arrives it crashes you with its whole might. Leaving you breathless.

It was a normal, sunny day when you met him. You were walking down the corridor, just trying to get to Merlin's class. Clutching your book in your hands, you found yourself outside as you came face to face with Hook. In the middle of the courtyard. All alone. His back was turned to you, and with that finding, you felt the sigh of relief leave your body pass your lips. It doesn't matter, you thought to yourself. So you decided to keep walking. You did not want to be late to class.

But it seems like the luck wasn't on your side that day. He turned around and walked up to you as he yelled out.

"Ahoy there, mermaid!" He smirked as your eyes met. "Skipping class again, I see. What's your excuse this time? Lost your voice singing to the fishes?"

James Hook, now leaning against a stone pillar, hook on his right hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes as his eyes scanned you.

"Hook, I unline you, am actually trying to now get there in time." You rolled your eyes at his teasing but decided that maybe it was time for you to finally tease him back a bit. "But don't worry, I've got a treasure map to Merlin's class. Care to actually join me?"

You saw a little tint of blush forming on his face, but you must have imagined it. And just as you thought that this would be the end of your conversation, he did something that left you stunned.

"Merlin's class? That's the real curse of Neverland. But I'd follow you anywhere, little mermaid." He gave you a wink, smirking.

You found yourself blushing, but no... it... it can't be. Luckily, you quickly regained your composure and continued your, playful, rivalry banter.

"You know, pirate, I've heard rumors about your hook. Is it true you lost it in a duel with a giant squid?" You leaned over closer to him.

"Aye, but it wasn't just any squid—it was the one that stole my heart." He smirked as he leaned down, closer to your face. "But now, here I am, a one-handed pirate with a penchant for trouble and a weakness for mermaid smiles."

You found yourself laughing at his flirting. You couldn't help it, it was just so... so endearing.

"Well, Captain, I've got a secret too." You said, with a little smirk planted on your face. "I've hidden my voice in a shell. Only the right kiss can unlock it. Interested?"

And so you did that for a while until you two were actually late for Merlin's class. You walked in, and Hook did not. But there was no way that you would admit to anyone, even your friends, why you walked into the class flushed, cheeks pink, with a stupid smile on your face.

You do, of course, realize that this was a bit abnormal. He was a pirate and part of Uliana's crew. You were a mermaid princess, daughter of the Triton himself. It was not normal, but as the days passed and what was a true rivalry, banter turned into just pure flirting, you found yourself not really caring.

As weeks passed and the flirting continued, somehow, you found yourself having a pirate boyfriend. After all of that, Hook and you started dating. Somehow.

And it was better than you ever expected it to be. You sometimes felt like, outside of Uliana's crew, you were the only one that he was nice to. It was... perplexing. But you loved it.

However, you both agreed that you should keep your relationship a secret for a while for both of your sakes. You weren't dumb. You both knew how your friends would react if you told them that you were dating. So that's how it all started. Secret stolen glances when nobody was looking, passing notes in class, stolen kisses when you were all alone, and, of course, flirty teasing banter.

That's how you found yourself, pressed against a tree in the school's courtyard, Hook with his hand by your head, his hook under your chin, trapping you.

"You're a siren in a landlocked school." He spoke, looking into your eyes. "Your voice could raise sunken ships, and your smile—well, that's my undoing."

"Tell me, Hook, do you ever dream of flying?" You asked as you started to trace your finger along his hook. "Not in a ship, but with wings made of stardust?"

He looked at you, captivated.

"Every night, my dear. And in my dreams, you're the compass guiding me through constellations." He leaned down towards you, your lips almost meating until something happened. Something that would change this forever.

"Hook!!" The terrifyingly hight and mighty voice rang out along the school courtyard.

You both turned around and froze as you came face to face with Uliana, Hades, Maleficent and a few more people that joined the courtyard when they heard yelling.

"But reality has a way of clipping my wings." Hook sighed as he moved away from you slowly, your heart speading up and breaking at the same time.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Uliana screamed. "What are you doing with a mermaid?!"

That's when you noticed something. Yes, Hook moved away from you, but his hand with his hook that was under your chin was now placed on your waist, still holding you close to him.

"Calm down, Uliana." Hook spoke up, looking at him.

"Calm down?!" Uliana yelled, absolutely fuming. "Are you seriously telling me to calm down right now?!"

"Yes." Hook said, "Yes, I am."

"Don't play games with me, Hook." She threatened before throwing a glance your way, smirking as she plotted against you. "If you don't stop doing whatever you're doing with this one, you will no longer be a part of my crew."

A moment of science was heard around the courtyard, and you know that it was over. He couldn't give up on his crew, and you most certainly did not want him to, so that means that your relationship has reached its inevitable end. Your heart was breaking as you looked on the ground, slowly moving away from Hook.

"You won't do that." He spoke up, his voice strong, ringing out. "We won't end our relationship." He turned to you and brought you closer to him once again, smiling at you before turning to Uliana with a determined look.

"You know that you need me whether you liked it or not. So, no, you won't throw me away from the rest of the crew. And even if you do, it doesn't matter. I still have her, and that is something that nothing will be able to change." He spoke as her face was formed into pure shock.

"So good day." He sarcastically bowed before he ruined around with you and walked away.

"Don't worry, she'll come around." You looked at him. "Maybe..."

"I honestly don't really care." He shrugged, his eyes ringing with truth. "I have you now, little mermaid, that's all I need and so much more, really."

->

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TAGLIST:

@xoxo-h3arts @i-am-fork @a-homosexual-homosapien @snixx2088 @heartsfromcoco @ariaroseloklover @isafran1125 @gayfrog29 @mystic-mae

[jiyascepter]

Caught You | 18+ Only

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Loki x F!reader

Words: 4012

Warnings/Content: SMUT; Avenger! Loki & Avenger! Y/n, Themes of dub-con, dark-ish Loki??, dom!Loki, pervy!Loki, possessive, jealous loki, use of loki's magic (in a lot of sexual stuff), restraints, bondage, biting, licking, aggressive, pissed loki, praise, slight degradation, there's a tattoo on y/n's thigh (for the plot!), other mcu characters also make an appearance, clit licking, fingering, overstimulation, p in v.

Please lmk if I missed anything! Loki is a bit of red-flaggy in this one, please keep in mind this is only a fanfiction.

Summary: When you make fun of Loki's magic, he "demonstrates" how his magic can be useful. In many, ehm..ways. What did you expect?

A/n: i moved the title in the corner so that i can keep seeing tommys's sexy face in the middle 😮‍💨 im trying to make my fics dirtier but it's not quite coming down in my works, like it's in my mind but it's not easy to express??? im trying & hopefully it'll come soon

The cavernous, dimly-lit warehouse echoed with the sounds of clashing metal and grunts of exertion. The Avengers were locked in combat with a band of mercenaries armed with advanced weaponry.

Tony was in the air, repulsor beams lighting up the darkness, while Natasha and Clint worked in tandem, their movements precise and deadly. Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, was a blur as it struck down the enemies with thunderous force.

In the midst of the chaos, Loki stood with an air of detached amusement, casting spells with flicks of his wrists. His magic sent mercenaries flying, created illusions to confuse their ranks, and conjured barriers to protect the teammates. But Loki's magic, powerful and unpredictable, was also a bit reckless tonight.

Maybe it was the leather suit you were wearing today.

"Loki, for the love of—watch where you're aiming!" You shouted as you narrowly avoided being hit by a stray spell meant for an enemy.

Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you shot him a glare. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

Loki smirked, eyeing you up, not taking you seriously. "Perhaps if you were more attentive, you wouldn't find yourself in such precarious positions, darling."

You scowled and ducked under a swipe from a mercenary, retaliating with a swift punch that sent your opponent sprawling.

Ugh, you hated how he always carried that stupid smirk.

"Maybe if your magic was actually useful, we wouldn't be in precarious positions to begin with!"

Loki's eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of irritation flashing through his otherwise calm demeanor. "Is that so? I seem to recall saving you from a similar predicament just last week."

"By causing it in the first place!" You shot back, dodging another mercenary's attack and taking him down with a well-placed kick. 

Loki rolls his eyes and runs in the other direction. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured an illusion, making a group of mercenaries see each other as Avengers.

Confused, they turned on one another, giving the team a moment of respite. But the spell was too potent, and soon the illusion spread, affecting even the teammates. 

Chaos erupted as friends and foes became indistinguishable. 

"What the—" Tony exclaimed while flying over the scene. 

"Damn it, Loki!" You screamed, ducking, as Natasha took a swing at you, mistaking you for an enemy.

"Enough!" Thor bellowed, his hammer smashing into the ground to create a shockwave that knocked everyone off their feet and dispelled the illusion.

The mercenaries, now disoriented, were quickly subdued.

The flight back home was quiet. Everyone was either tired, tending to their wounds, or just rethinking what happened back there. 

Once you landed, the rest of the Avengers stepped down the Quinjet and walked into the building to their rooms. 

"Loki, wait." Steve calls out and walks towards Loki in the lobby.

“About today—”

“Nobody died, Rogers.” Loki replies. 

"That is not an achievement," You murmur to yourself loudly on purpose for him to hear while taking a sip from your favourite grey-coloured sipper. 

Loki and Steve both glanced at you, with Steve carrying a hint of a smile on his face while Loki scowled and turned back to Steve.

You could tell he was not impressed. 

A win for you.

Steve clears his throat, turning serious once more. "Look, what happened today was not good. We cannot work as a team if we don't know half of your tricks."

Loki grins. "Well, that's the fun, isn't it? A surprise for everyone.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. "But it isn’t helping, Lo-"

"Helping? His magic is useless half the time."

Loki shoots an eye at you when you say that, and you could tell the God wasn't pleased.

"He's showing off in front of everyone, like the arrogant ass he is." You go on, while Loki watches you with his grave, sharp eyes.

Why wasn't he replying with his usual snarky comments today? 

Steve gives a light chuckle and pats Loki's shoulder as if feeling sorry for him, "Be careful next time, that's all I ask," and walks away through the corridor, leaving you and Loki to yourselves.

While waiting for the elevator, you silently stand in front of the doors, waiting for it to arrive.

Until you feel a hard pressure against your back.

The sensation is unmistakable—a solid, unyielding presence, warm and firm. Loki's chest. His closeness sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breath and subtle heat radiating through his clothes.

You stiffen, unsure whether to move away or stay still, the elevator's arrival feeling like an eternity away.

You decide to say something to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Ego broken, Loki~?" You say his name in a sing-song voice.

"Do you enjoy testing my patience, mortal?" he says, leaning down to your ear.

"Someone has to keep you in check," you reply, your voice steady despite the proximity.

The elevator reaches your floor, and with a little chime, its doors open. You proceed to take a step forward to enter the elevator when his hand grabs hold of the back side of your neck and pulls you back to him.

"Careful," he almost whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, "your tongue is going to get you in trouble one day."

You pause for a moment, feeling the tension thicken in the air, before you turn your head out of his hands to look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt the big bad trickster's feelings?" You taunt, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe if your magic wasn't so unreliable, we wouldn't be in these messes. Or do you need Daddy Odin to give you some pointers on how to actually be useful?"

Loki's eyes flare with fury, and in no time he grabs your neck once again and strides into the elevator, pinning your head to the panels. His body pressed against yours with a force that left little room for doubt about his intensity.

His frame, tall and lean yet undeniably strong, exerting a commanding presence as he pins you against the cool metal of the elevator wall. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the chill of the metal against your cheek. 

He was so close to you, you could smell his sultry, intoxicating smell on him.

"You think my magic is useless, don’t you..." He whispers, his breath ghosting on your skin. "I’ll make sure you regret saying that."

"I don't "think", it's a fact." You try to push him back with your elbow. “Let me go, Loki.” You say it firmly. 

"Not yet, vixen." He says so, and the elevator doors shut by themselves. And with one flick of his fingers, the front chain of your tight leather suit yanked open down to the end of your belly.

Did he just–

"I’ll make sure to demonstrate how useful my magic can be." He says and looks down to notice you were not even wearing a bra underneath.

He grins at the sight, licking his lower lip. "Naughty girl." He coos in your ear while his fingers work their way to your belly. 

His fingers, though possessing a hint of coldness at first, quickly warmed against your skin as they made contact with your belly. Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire that danced just beneath the surface. 

"Let. Me. Go." You say, trying to stand your ground, but your attempts are futile. 

"Told you no, darling." He says while his fingers trailed up to your nipples, sending a shiver down your spine as goosebumps rose in their wake.

It was a sensation that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his touch. 

He slides down your suit from your shoulders, proceeding with a graze of his tongue on your skin. 

"Mmm…sweet," he murmurs, sucking on your shoulder, "unlike those words you use."

"FUCK. YOU." You reply with a gruff.

Loki chuckles darkly against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Oh, darling, you will," he murmurs, his voice dripping with seductive menace. "But not before I teach you to respect a God."

He pulls down your suit lower, his lips kissing the back of your neck, followed by melty little kisses down your bareback. Despite your discontent, you couldn’t help but feel turned on by him.

As Loki pushes down your suit to your thighs, his eyes catch sight of a small tattoo etched on the inside of your thigh. The ink reads the name of your ex-boyfriend. Loki's eyes darken with a mix of curiosity and possessiveness. 

He paused, his brows furrowing as he read the name inked there. "Well, well, well," he murmured, his voice a mix of curiosity and disdain. "So that’s what your little skirt was hinting at the meeting a few days ago..."

He traced the tattoo lightly with his finger, sending a shiver through your body.

So this bastard was always watching you?

You grit your teeth, anger and embarrassment flushing through you. "It’s none of your business, Loki."

He tightens his grip on your neck slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his dominance. "I know."

"But this mark... it irks me. An insignificant mortal claiming a part of you." He pinches your thigh, and you try to jerk away your leg but cannot. 

You squirmed against his grip, but he held you firmly, his eyes dark and intense as they bore into yours. "Let it go, Loki," you demanded, trying to maintain your composure.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the tattoo. "Why should I?" he whispered, his voice a dangerous purr. "Why should I let some forgotten lover's mark go unchallenged?"

He gives you a rather harsh bite on your shoulder, trailing his lips to kiss your neck, which makes you whimper, which makes him grin.

He pulls away a bit, and with the flick of his wrists, an invisible force pins your arms above your head, securing you in place against the elevator wall. You struggle briefly, but the bonds hold firm. Loki steps back, his eyes raking over your exposed form with a predatory gaze.

Before you could retort, he bent down, turning his body against the elevator and facing you from below. He kissed the tattoo with deliberate slowness, his lips soft and maddeningly sensual.

The act was both possessive and teasing, with his tongue swirling repeatedly on the same spot that was making you crazy. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and a part of you hated how your body responded to his touch. 

"Shh, people can still hear us, darling. Even if they cannot enter." He says placing pecks up and down your thigh, evaporating your steady facade away.

"Now, let's see what other secrets you're hiding," he murmurs, his hands sliding down to your hips. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down and exposing you completely.

You saw his eyes almost sparkle at the sight, placing a kiss on your mound, making you flinch against the metal. Where and when did your suit disappear? You didn’t know.

He leans close and starts exploring your already wet clit with his tongue. Holding your waist in his hands, he kept stealing glances up at your aroused form, watching your expressions while you gasped every time his warm tongue darted on your needy pussy.

The god had a talent for his tongue. The silver tongue. 

"Are you still with him?" He murmured, pulling away his face from your pussy, making you let out a complaining whine.

He holds up his two fingers to caress your folds. "Answer."

"N-no…" You answer, your voice quivering in pleasure.

"Then why isn’t it off?" He says this, glancing at your tattoo.

"I never…Loki-"

He pushes two fingers in. "You never what?"

You shudder as Loki's fingers push inside you, his question hanging in the air, demanding an answer. Your mind races, caught between the intense pleasure and the need to explain yourself.

"I never... had the chance," you manage to gasp, your voice barely steady. "It didn't mean anything anymore. I just...fuck-forgot about it."

Loki's eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face, his fingers moving slowly inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes coherent thoughts nearly impossible. He doesn't seem entirely convinced.

"Forgot about it?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Or perhaps you wanted a reminder of something you couldn't let go?" 

"No…" You moan, writhing against the panel with your hands above your head, your fingers aching to dive into his hair. 

He starts to pump his fingers in and out of you with a deliberate rhythm, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. You squirm, your faint moans echoing the elevator.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Because I don't share, darling. And I don't like to be reminded of what once was."

You moan, your body arching against his touch. His words send a thrill through you, and the possessiveness in his tone both intimidating and exhilarating.

"You know I can just turn you into a pretty mannequin for me so I can do whatever I want with you…but I want to feel you squirm... to mewl... like a little prey." He says watching your face while feeling your pussy start to clench around his fingers.

"Now, let's make sure you never forget who you belong to, hm?" Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your thigh as he speaks. His mouth returns to your clit, his tongue flicking and sucking with a relentless intensity that drives you wild. 

"Yeah, that’s right, just keep on making those little sounds for me." He says it with a satisfied smile curling on his lips, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor. 

The combination of his fingers inside you and his mouth on your clit sends you spiralling into a mind-shattering orgasm, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out his name.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, Loki slowly withdraws his fingers. He stands, his eyes locking onto yours. He releases your binds away and turns you to him, and his thumb caresses your lower lip as if studying it for a second before he holds you against the wall, cupping your cheek, and kisses you almost fiercely. 

And gosh, you needed that. You needed that and more.

"Y/n, is that you?"

Both of you freeze to your seats when you hear Thor’s voice outside the elevator. 

Loki's eyes narrow in annoyance, and he quickly glances towards the elevator doors. "Shh," he murmurs against your lips, his voice barely a whisper. "We wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?"

He continues exploring your mouth, and the kisses start spreading to your neck, tongue, and teeth, making their wild appearances every once in a while. 

Until you couldn’t help it and let out a moan.

"This door is not openi- Y/n??" Thor repeats again. "Wait, let me call Stark.-" 

Your heart races when Thor calls out again because of your moan. Loki’s eyes narrow, and he pulls away. "Are you doing this on purpose? Just another one of your games so we can get caught and you can have your fun?"

He gives your pussy a little slap, and you whine a no. 

In a swift motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. You barely have time to register the shift before the air around you shimmers and the familiar confines of the elevator vanish, replaced by the opulent and dimly lit interior of a room unknown to you.

The room is a stark contrast to the sterile metal of the elevator. Rich tapestries line the walls, and candles flicker, casting a warm, golden glow. A large, ornate bed dominates the space, its dark, luxurious linens inviting in a way that makes your heart race. 

Loki wastes no time. He sweeps you off your feet, carrying you to the bed with an urgency that sends a thrill through you. He lays you down gently, his gaze intense as he takes in your still-naked form. His hands trace over your skin, as if committing every inch to memory. 

The air is thick with the scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Loki—intoxicating and alluring. "Now, where were we?" He purrs, his fingers tracing a delicate line down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

You can barely catch your breath; the intensity of the moment overwhelming. "Loki, what if Thor—"

"Thor won't find us," Loki interrupts, his voice a low growl. "This is my domain. No one enters without my permission."

"Now," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, "let us continue our little magic demonstration." 

The silken sheets cool against your heated skin, and with Loki's hands everywhere—caressing, teasing, exploring every inch of your body—his touch both gentle and demanding, leaving you breathless and craving more. 

"So beautiful," his voice dripping with seductive menace as he conjures a binding spell that secures your wrists to the bedposts. 

You gasp, your body arching against the restraints, as Loki's mouth finds your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples with maddening precision. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind is lost in a haze of pleasure and need. 

Loki's mouth moves with deliberate precision, his tongue tracing intricate patterns over your breasts. Each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you arch and writhe against the silken sheets. The restraints on your wrists keep you firmly in place.

"Loki…"

"Mhm," he hums, enjoying your squirms. But he wanted more.

He uses his powers to amplify his touch, making your nerve endings sing with heightened sensitivity. You gasp and moan, the intensity of his magic overwhelming your senses.

You can feel the magic pulsating through you, heightening your awareness of every touch and every kiss. His lips move from your breasts to the sensitive skin just below, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The combination of his mouth and his magic almost too much to bear.

His free hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. As his fingers reach your inner thighs, you feel a new surge of his magic, more potent and concentrated. It wraps around your thighs, making your muscles quiver with anticipation.

Loki conjures small, delicate tendrils of magic that wrap around your nipples, gently tugging and twisting. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before—a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping for breath. 

He moves lower, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your belly. The tendrils of magic follow his path, amplifying every sensation, making you feel as if your skin is on fire. You can barely think or breathe; your mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

As he reaches your hips, his fingers part your folds, and you feel a rush of cool air against your wetness. His mouth hovers just above your clit, his breath hot and tantalizing. 

"Tell me, darling," Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot, "how does it feel to be at the mercy of a god?"

Before you can answer, his tongue flicks out, teasing your clit with delicate, precise strokes. His magic enhances every touch, making you moan and writhe against the restraints. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly. 

"Loki I-" He sees your upcoming orgasm and pulls away quickly, enjoying your needy, complaining moan for him.

"Not so easy, darling."

And with another display of his magic, he completely gets rid of his clothes, his disrobed body turning you on even more, the heat of need between your legs almost unbearable.

He brings his already-hard cock near your lips. "Kiss it." and you do, the light hum of satisfaction he makes making you want to absolutely suck him out rather than just a little kiss.

"My filthy little vixen," he says, eyes blazing with hunger as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you in place as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, the sensation sending shivers of anticipation through you, "get ready for your god."

He lets out a low growl, a dark and seductive sound, before slowly pushing into you, his length stretching and filling you completely. The feeling is exquisite, with every inch of him sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You feel so perfect," Loki murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Every part of you was made just for me."

He begins to move, slow and deliberate, his thrusts deep and controlled. Each motion designed to draw out the maximum pleasure to make you feel every inch of him. The binding spell keeps your wrists secured to the bedposts, preventing you from reaching out to touch him, to claw at his back as the pleasure intensifies.

Loki's eyes never leave yours, the connection between you palpable and electric. He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts. You respond eagerly, your moans muffled against his lips, your body arching to meet his. 

His magic continues to amplify every sensation, making your skin hypersensitive, every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you. The tendrils of magic around your nipples tighten and twist, adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"Loki," you gasp, barely able to form coherent words. "I can't... it's too much..."

He smirks, his eyes dark with lust. "You can take it, darling. You will take it. You will take everything I give you."

His pace quickens, and his thrusts become more urgent and more demanding. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mingling with your moans and the wet, slick sounds of your bodies moving together. The pleasure builds rapidly, creating a coiling heat in your belly that threatens to consume you entirely.

Loki's hand moves between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight, precise circles. The additional stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Come for me, darling," Loki commands, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come for your god."

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless and shaking. The pleasure is overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Loki continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure, his own release imminent. His movements become erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own climax.

You can feel him throbbing inside you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he finally lets go, his own orgasm ripping through him.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his groan of pleasure vibrating through your body. He collapses on top of you, his weight comforting and grounding as you both catch your breath, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through you.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your ragged breathing, the scent of sex and sweat heavy in the air. Loki's hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear of overwhelming pleasure. 

"Fuck, you drive me wild." He murmurs breathlessly. 

"Did you like that, darling?" Loki murmurs against your skin, his voice a seductive purr. "My magic can do so much more." 

You breathlessly chuckle while he traces patterns on your skin. His fingers caress down to your thigh, where he glances at your tattoo.

"We can’t have that." He says in a low voice and grazes his hand over your skin, and the tattoo vanishes.  Loki’s touch lingers on your thigh where the tattoo once was, his magic leaving your skin smooth and unmarked.

"And now you’re mine."

┈➤ Taglist in the comments! Lmk if you want to join or just click this 𖹭

[captainreecejames]

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill. 

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up. 

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He  opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating. 

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him. 

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque. 

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

[navybrat817]

In a Red Dress

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, flirting, teasing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Happy FriYAY! I started this in January for @tumblin-theworldaway and finally finished it today. Love you, Aqua! I hope you can relax soon. Could be considered a follow up to With a Bang. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your heels clicked along the floor as you left the elevator, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Bucky’s fault that his team extended their mission for another day. Unforeseen circumstances were to blame, completely out of his control. You also couldn't hold it against him that he had to debrief after he messaged you that he arrived back home safely and unharmed. It was part of the job. Still, you missed him and wanted a bit of attention.

Which was why you showed up at S.H.I.E.L.D. in a silky red dress and Bucky’s dog tags under your coat. No bra, no panties. Which he realized when you walked into the conference room, unannounced, and removed your coat.

It was fun to put the fire in his steel eyes.

“Welcome home, Bucky,” you smiled as the room went silent. “Don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Your burly boyfriend was out of his seat and didn't tear his gaze away from you, the tension thick as you tossed the coat away. Today was a good day for your self confidence. You wore it like a second skin, feeling as beautiful on the outside as you did inside. You knew you looked good enough to eat and you wanted him to devour you.

And as much as you loved him in his black shirt and tactical pants, it hid the wall of muscle you wanted to trace with your hands and tongue.

“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his eyes dropping to your chest. Your nipples hardened against the fabric and you wished he’d latch his mouth to them. “And speaking of home, I thought I was going to meet you there.”

Your shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I got impatient since you were late. Plus I wanted to show you my dress,” you said, doing a happy twirl. It was reminiscent of New Years. The soft fabric hugged your body tight like your black dress did, but this one left little to the imagination. “What do you think?”

Steve, ever the good friend, averted his gaze, but a scowl crossed Bucky’s handsome face when you both realized that other agents looked your way. You hadn't expected to be the center of attention for anyone else, but it didn't matter to you if others looked. Why would you want them when Bucky had you under his spell?

At least they were smart enough to look away when Bucky’s metal hand clenched.

“Well? Do you like it? I thought the dog tags were a nice touch,” you added, running a finger along them when he remained silent. “They really do go well with everything.”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you with a metal finger. You knew he meant business when he didn't use his dominant hand. “Now.”

You maintained an aura of innocence as you walked toward him, watching him his lips as your hips swayed.

“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he said low enough for just the two of you, but poor Steve with his enhanced hearing likely picked up on it. “And I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to wear a dress like that in front of other guys.”

Any other guy who said that to you would've been smacked, but hearing it from him only made your eyes fill with amusement as you tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to wear this, Sergeant.”

“Baby,” he whispered. You knew what calling him by his rank did to him.

“I should be able to wear what I want and when I want to. We both know that,” you continued, sliding your finger down his chest instead of poking it like he expected. “But you have my permission to break someone's fingers if they try to touch what belongs to you. Because I do belong to you.”

Your declaration fueled the fire within. There was no hesitation on your part. No doubt. And after being apart for a short time, you wanted him to hear you say you were his girl.

“Yeah, you do. You’re mine,” he said with a raspy touch of confidence that would’ve soaked your panties had you been wearing any. “And I’m all yours, but I still need to debrief.”

You huffed, but the conviction in his tone was admirable. “Fine. I’ll just wait here,” you said when he frowned. Both of you knew the classified information wasn’t meant for your ears, yet no one spoke up for you to leave. Were they afraid of pissing your boyfriend off? “You know, I really do love that grumpy look of yours. It gets me so wet.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched when one of the men coughed. “You're being a fucking tease.”

“Is it teasing if I let you have me?” You asked, tapping your chin. “Teasing you would be letting you go to bed with blue balls.”

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and clutched the dog tags. He yanked on them hard enough to move you closer, his eyes not leaving yours when you gasped and shivered from the heat-filled look. You considered it a win that you didn’t collapse. Because he was going to destroy you and you’d love every second of it.

“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, baby,” he warned.

You smiled, more than ready to give him one more push. “I’m more interested in what’s supposed to go inside my mouth.”

His nostrils flared when you opened your mouth and showed him your tongue and throat. He put a hand on the back of your neck and tilted your head back, lightly nipping at your skin below your jaw. “I should put you on your knees and fuck your throat in front of everyone. Or put you over my knee and spank you ‘til you squirm. Show ‘em that you really are mine.”

You giggled, a soft and tempting sound. “Why fuck my throat when my pussy is nice and wet for you?”

“Gentlemen. I think the Bravo Conference Room is available. Let’s finish this up there,” Steve announced, his chair scraping against the floor and pulling you out of your spell. “Told you that you should’ve just gone home, jerk.”

“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky said, keeping a firm hand on you so you couldn’t look at any of the men filing out. The smirk he gave you was nothing short of predatory once the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone. “Since you need my cock so badly that you can’t wait until I get home, bend over that table and let me give it to you.”

Your giggle quickly died in your throat when you realized he was serious. “You’ve never fucked me in one of the debriefing rooms. Someone could walk in,” you reminded him.

Yeah, you showed up wearing what you did. Yeah, you teased him. But it was all in good fun. He wouldn’t actually fuck you on the table.

Right?

Your cheeks grew hot at the next words out of his mouth. “You think I give a shit about if someone walks in?”

He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, carefully dragging you to the table. You loved every part of him, but something about his unashamed want of you made your heart soar. Maybe it was because of how much he healed and allowed himself to have a piece of happiness. That some part of him from his past, the man he used to be, surfaced and blended in with who he was now.

Heaven sent and survived the depths of Hell.

“Now, I should spank your ass raw for this little stunt you pulled. Letting them see you in this dress,” he said without any real threat behind his words. “But I won’t do that until we’re home.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled, expecting him to bend you over. But he brought a hand to your cheek instead. “Bucky?”

His gaze moved to your lips as he murmured, “Not fucking you until I kiss you.”

His mouth met yours not in a frenzy, but with a smile. The kind that told you how happy he was to be back with you. It wasn’t long before he shifted, the hand on your cheek slipping to your chin so he could deepen it. The soft slip of his tongue ignited your entire body, feeling his heart beat faster as you brought a hand to his chest. A reminder that he was alive, home, and loved you.

You loved him, too.

Your eyes stayed shut for a few seconds after he pulled away. “Missed you, Bucky,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Now bend over.”

The air rushed from your lungs at the switch from want to tenderness to need, your chest pressed against the table as he pushed your dress. Part of you wondered if he would’ve made good on his threat and fuck you in front of the other agents. He liked to toe the line of wanting to show others you were his and not wanting them to see intimate parts of you.

Which made you wonder what he’d do if someone walked in. He said he didn’t give a shit, but would he stop and try to cover your body with his own? Or would he keep fucking you?

You wouldn't mind either way.

“Spread ‘em,” he ordered, which you immediately obeyed. The low whistle made you shut your eyes before he dragged a finger along your exposed slit. “Didn’t even bother covering your pretty pussy with underwear. Probably best since you would’ve ruined them with how wet you are.”

“You’ve ruined all of my panties, Bucky,” you said, the distinct sound of his belt buckle and pants zipper making you moan. “And I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? Your pussy ready to stretch around my cock?” He asked, making you shriek when he unexpectedly brought his flesh hand down hard on your ass. He only used the metal when you were in real trouble. “You better not have fucked yourself with a toy before you got here.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t even touched myself,” you promised before he stretched over your back. “I just need you in me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And though you interrupted my debriefing and I may need to stab a teammate or two, you’re still my good girl. And good girls deserve rewards,” he growled in your ear, nipping it for good measure as you moaned. The head of his cock teased your entrance, your core clenching in anticipation. “I’ll fuck you and you’ll come all over me, just like you want and just like I need. And you’ll take it ‘til I’m done with you.”

You reveled in being his good girl, even when you were bad. How no one else could take his cock the way you could. How he made you soak your sheets day and night with your essence because being fucked by Bucky Barnes made you gush like a geyser. It was obscene.

“I’m your good girl and I’ll take everything you give me,” you said sweetly, knowing he’d fuck you whether you said it or not. “So let my pussy welcome your cock home, please?”

The soft kiss to your neck was almost like an apology before he pushed into you, both of you moaning. He’d check later to make sure you weren’t sore since he didn’t stretch you at all, but the slight ache when he bottomed out always bordered more on pleasure than pain. The overwhelming sensations of him inside you made your eyes roll back and he hadn’t even started thrusting.

“So fucking warm. And wet,” he grunted in your ear when he finally moved, his pants rubbing against your bare thighs. “Jesus fuck, you’re soaking me.”

Bucky robbed you of your breath when he leaned up and gripped your hips, hammering into you. You tried to grip the table, but all you could do was let him pull you back and forth. He was relentless like this, powerful, dominant. Making you take it, just like he said you would. Funny how minutes ago you were the one confidently teasing him and now you were a whining, needy mess. All because his cock shut your brain off.

You didn’t need to think like this anyway. You could be his doll, just for him to play with and love. In your pretty red dress or nothing at all.

“Harder, Sergeant,” you begged, your moans spurring him on.

“Not hard enough for you? Needy little thing,” he groaned, the sound of him burying himself inside you over and over echoing in your ears. “Missed this cunt. Missed you.”

Your pussy gripped him tight, the heady bliss making your vision blur. “Missed you. M… Missed your cock,” you slurred.

He chuckled, not slowing his pace as he leaned back down to tickle your cheek with his scruff. “So fucking cute when you get drunk on my cock.”

You wondered some days where he learned to talk dirty before you remembered that you had a large hand in that. He loved telling you how greedy your pussy made him. How he loved watching his spend slide out of you so he could fuck it back in. How he’s shocked some days that he can fit inside you, so he must’ve turned you into a perfect cocksleeve.

His cock made your mind numb, but your pussy made him run his mouth.

“Gonna make you sit on it when we get home. Fuck, gonna make you ruin the sheets when I fuck you into the mattress,” he rambled, making you moan louder. You didn’t care who heard. Let them hear what he did to you. What he turned you into: his needy slut. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you moaned, his thrusts pushing your breasts harder against the table, your nipples hard and aching for him to touch them. He would later. You could wait. But you couldn’t wait to fall over the precipice. “‘M gonna come.”

“Do it. Won’t stop you,” he encouraged. He no doubt felt how close you were with how you clenched around him, your back starting to arch. “C’mon, baby. Come all over me.”

Your eyes fluttered as your body tensed, your walls pulsing around him your orgasm surged like a tidal wave. The ripples tore through you, ebbing and flowing as you moaned his name. If you could drown in pleasure, you’d want his name to be the last word that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised as your limbs went lax.

You throbbed around him until he pulled out, making you whimper since he didn't come. You wanted him to finish inside you. He had you on your back with your legs spread wide before you could beg for it, keeping your dress up as he speared you once again. He thrust fast, needing his release just as badly as you needed yours.

“Need to see your face when you milk my cock,” he grunted, licking his thumb and bringing it to your clit. You whined, jerking underneath him as he rubbed the swollen nub. “Oh, stay still. You can give me one more.”

You almost denied him before you felt the coil tighten within you again. You never thought you could have back-to-back orgasms until you started sleeping with him. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. He played you like his favorite instrument and you were his good girl.

You could give him one more.

“Come with me,” you panted, staring into his darkened eyes as his face twisted in ecstasy only you could provide him. “Please.”

He couldn’t resist that last bit of begging.

The waves crashed again, adding to your first high, as his mouth opened in a groan, filling you in hot spurts. Watching him tip over the edge was a sight to behold, his cheeks tinged as his hips stilled and both of you tried to catch your breath. He laid across you after a moment, the weight of him making you sigh.

“Welcome back,” you smiled as your breathing evened out.

He stayed inside you as he brushed his lips against yours. You were going to make a mess all over the table when he pulled out, but it was worth any grief either of you got. “Good to be back,” he whispered, his hand on your cheek again in a tender display as his eyes scanned your face. “So beautiful.”

“Me fucked out or the dress?” You smiled.

“Both,” he smiled back, your face warm.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing fast. You suddenly wished you were in bed so he could properly hold you. But he’d have you home soon enough for that. “Hope I didn't get you into any trouble,” you added. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Steve gets it,” he assured you, briefly closing his eyes when you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we got back late. He’s right. I should've just gone right home.”

Your heart clenched a little at that. Missions were important and not easy on either of you, but it was his job. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it home safely,” you said, arching your back. The table wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were too fucked out to care.

You also didn't want to be apart from him since he was back.

He wrapped an arm underneath you to ease some of your strain. “Still teased me by showing up like this. I might fuck your throat and put you over my knee tonight,” he groaned, squeezing a breast through your dress before he straightened out the dog tags. “But then I’m going to hold you after and not let go.”

You smiled, looking forward to it. “Yes, Sergeant.”

And you'd be sure to thank Steve later for clearing out the room so you could welcome your man home.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business! Hehe. 😇 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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