#also the beard scruff! gotta have the scruff be scruffy or it's just not scruff enuff isnt it

[steakout-05]

ok so i might have gotten distracted and accidentally put absurd amounts of detail and colour into that grumpy barry sketch andddd ummmmmm

it just kinda happened :D (ignore the scout at the bottom he's frolicking)

[ftm-radio]

my main quest for 2022 is all about acquiring Boy Goop™ so with that in mind, I thought it'd be fun to compile a list of my current transition goals/the changes I am most hopeful for!

honestly I'm really only writing this bc I can't stop thinking about it and maybe typing it all out will get it outta my brain for a bit lol

a good, deep, masculine (and sexy? 😳) voice. I know I cannot be corpsehusband (rip my impossible dreams 💔) but I'd love to be a lot closer to his voice than the one I've got rn lmao

some scruffy stubble. idc if it takes me 10 years to get a proper beard, I just want the scruff rn. I'll worry about a beard when I'm like.. 30

curly/wavy hair, please god, give me this 😫🙏🏻 I have wanted curls for as long as I can remember, I want to join the "I started t and got curls" club so bad awhzjjsjdjsk if my hair curls I WILL grow it out again is2g, I will love & appreciate my hair way more than I did as a kid 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

a modest but respectable amount of muscle. I know t makes it easier to gain muscle so hopefully it won't let me down lol

ngl i kinda want a bigger nose?? iirc t can make your nose grow a bit (jammidodger said that happened to him in one of his vids) so if I have to have a boring kinda feminine (imo) nose maybe it can at least be a little bigger so I like it more lol

square jawline?? I'm fat so it's hard to see but I'm pretty sure I've got a squarish jaw under my facial chub so if t could chisel that out a bit I'd sure appreciate it

thicker fingers, more masc hands. [chanting] manly man hands manly man hands manly man hands manly man hands MANLY MAN HA—

fuller/darker eyebrows! always loved the bigger brows, mine are okay but kinda sparse tbh. also throwback to 16 y/o me pretending to agree with my sister but secretly feeling bad when she made fun of aria prettylittleliar's thick brows <3

general body hair growth. my brother is a pretty hairy dude so I think I've got this one in the bag but 🤞🏻 just in case, lol. when I was a teen one of my older sisters was envious of how light/fine my arm hair was and commented on it every once in awhile and tbh I think that made me feel weird/self conscious looking back so maybe round 2 of puberty will fix that

I know im too old for it to happen but like... could I be a little taller?? just an inch or two? pretty please? 😭

it's not a physical change but hello t please give me self confidence 😘

...

...

...

🤏🏻🍆😏💕 c'mon u know what this one's about lol

okay most of this is so basic lmao 🙈 whatever, I guess I'll be easy to please. I just want the boy sauce. the man lotion. essence of masculinity.

as soon as I get my ss bullshit fixed & i can change my name on my insurance I'm gonna make doctors appointments and figure out what I gotta do to to get hrt!! 😤💕

[naughty-teddy-innit]

An Ed Sheeran Oneshot, AKA Couch Fluff. 💙💙💙

So I stumbled across THIS Gif a few days ago, and the comment about imagining Ed stroking his fingers up and down your arm, and underneath your sleeve totally got me and it spiralled into a Cuddly oneshot that I'm kinda in love with. Hope you guys like it, and no Smut this time around! 

“Edward Christopher….” Your voice is soft, yet a touch of wry exasperation flavours the words you aim in his direction.  “You’re absolutely NOT helping, you know.”

You’re splayed across one end of the overstuffed, navy blue sectional that occupies your living room, well-worn plush throw pillows propping your legs up.  Your MacBook is open in your lap, textbooks, mounds of handwritten notes and references stacked beside you. You were thisclose to finishing your last semester of school, and this last, final paper, along with your final exams, had consumed every moment of your time and energy for the past 2 weeks. The topknot that resides atop your head probably hadn’t been let down in days, and your ever-present sweatpants were probably becoming a little TOO well-worn.  You’d abandoned your contacts 4 days ago, and resorted to the glasses that Ed so lovingly referred to as your “Potter Specs”.  You were BEYOND ready to be done, and to rejoin the world of the people that slept. And bathed. That’d be a good idea.

Your eyes were beginning to cross as you attempted to keep focus on the screen in front of you, and your fingers were beginning to forget how to spell.  A deep, exhausted sigh falls from your lips, and only a moment later, you feel his weight shift from his position to the side of you, on the opposite side of the sofa, to now against your hip.  You feel, suddenly, warm fingers gently tracing along the outer bend and crease of your arm.  They drift slowly upward, gently, softly stroking under the sleeve of your jersey.  Slowly up and down, a soft, soothing pattern drawn against the warm give of your flesh. A soft hum of contentment rumbles in your chest, the slow stroke of his slightly calloused fingertips sending waves of warmth and relaxation through your tense, exhausted body.  However heavenly his fingers were though, they were NOT helping your already stretched-to-capacity brain to prove your hypothesis. Hence, your half-hearted protest.  

“Sooo not helping me concentrate, Teddy.” You sigh.  “Feels SO nice, but I gotta finish this SOMEHOW, and soon.”

You feel his weight suddenly shift again, and he’s sitting up and facing you with a full pout on his face, and you can’t help but laugh at expression. So very your Teddy.

“What’s that face for?” You laugh softly.  Reaching just slightly, you comb your fingers though the scruff on his jaw, allowing your thumb to gently swipe the outline of his pillowy lips. He captures your hand before you can pull it back, his fingertips twining with yours, and lifts it to his lips. He dots soft, supple kisses along the bump of each knuckle, and then sighs as you smile ruefully and pull your hand back, tenderly brushing his cheek before straightening your laptop.

“I am a sad, neglected Ginger Man.” He pronounces with dramatized woe in his voice.  “I only want attention.”

You can’t help the laugh-snort that escapes as you take in the puppy dog eyes that he’s oh so skillfully aimed in your direction.

“Neglected???” You tilt your head and give him your own pretty little pout, loving the sparkle in his blue eyes at the mischief in yours. “My poor sweet Teddy. How in the world have you survived this long?? 2 WHOLE weeks.”  

“Can’t help it.” He says stubbornly. “I miss my cuddles. And your cooking, cause fuck knows I can’t feed myself. Oh, and also, I miss getting you naked. You have such a pretty bum.” He sighs.

He says this so plaintively and earnestly, you can’t help but fall to pieces, until your shoulders are shaking and you have to pull your glasses off to wipe your eyes. That BOY.

“Baby, believe me, I KNOW it’s been a rough couple of weeks. I have ONE exam left, and this last fucking paper to submit, and then you can have at my pretty bum and every other part of my body, for as LONG as you want. And then again after that.” You cock your head as you finish that thought, and let your fingers drift to cover his. You shoot him a mischievous smirk, and whisper, “If it helps, there are several parts of YOUR body I’m desperate to reacquaint myself with.” You catch his gaze and grin at widening of his eyes.

“Tease.” he says drily, with no preamble and a raised invisible blond eyebrow. “I suppose Little Ed can wait a little longer…”  He sees your own raised eyebrow and the gleeful giggle that’s about to escape your lips and cuts you RIGHT off. “OI. NOT so little Ed, then. Massive Ed. GIGANTIC ED-“

You give him the most knowing look you can muster, and pat his knee. “You just keep telling yourself that, babes. He’s gargantuan. Mythological, even. Overshadows any other penis I’ve ever see - Wait, ED NO!! AHH-“

You SHRIEK as he suddenly launches himself from his sitting position, and you find yourself flat on your back, face to face with a pair of large, twinkling sea blue eyes, and the ENTIRE length and weight of his soft, warm body squashing you into the couch cushions. You’re positively shaking, belly laughs wracking your body as he simply lays there, innocence etched on his face as he covers your body with his.

“Hi,” he says with a massive grin. “Got your attention now, Love. Gimme kisses, and MAYBE me and my neglected, mythological, man parts will let you get back to your laptop. Maybe.”

“You think ATTACKING me gets you kisses, you MEAN man??” You’re gasping high-pitched giggles as you try to wiggle him off, but he’s not remotely having it. Little bugger; he’s not even moving, he’s all out planking with you pinned beneath him, a giant satisfied grin plastered across his face. Damn those scruffy dimples. And he smells delicious, traces of laundry soap and cologne and just…Teddy. Dammit.

One colourful arm suddenly lifts up and he props himself up, one inked up forearm on either side of your head, and he hoists, almost slides, his body right up over yours. One leg is drawn up, soft flesh and firm muscle pressed up against your outer thigh and hip. He’s NOT letting you go, and the utterly pleased-with-himself smirk that’s NOT left his face is just far too cute. It is NOT fair.

“You may have ONE kiss.” You solemnly acquiesce. “One kiss, and then, sir, you need to UNSQUASH ME-“

His lips are on yours before you can form another thought, and…Oh. God, there is never a time you don’t love his kisses.  His lips, so soft and yielding and yummy, you’ve missed these slow, tender kisses. He has a habit of infusing every embrace, every graze and caress with meaning and intent. Whether it was a joyful, loving smooch, or deep and carnal, his kisses were never a wasted thought.

“Mmmmmmmm…” you hum, losing yourself in feel of his body pressed against yours, and the delicious tickle of his beard as it gently chafes your sensitive skin.  He’s all about the slow, lingering kisses this time aroun; catching your upper lip, then a gentle tug to your bottom lip. For the first time in over a week, you can feel the tension leave your body, all thoughts of hypothesis’ and arguments and due dates, a distant and fuzzy memory, and it’s so just what you needed. You manage to extricate your arms from beneath the weight of his, awkwardly sliding them up and over the slope of his shoulders and back, your fingers winding through the silky curls at his neck.  A contented rumble rolls through him at your touch, and he presses his body as tightly against yours as he can, drawing out more and more warm, melty, kisses that you wish would never end.  He slows suddenly, his lips tracing a gentle new path as he tenderly marks the landscape of your jawline, your forehead, even the tip of your nose, and it’s just so heavenly, and in this moment you’re not sure you’ve ever felt so cherished.

He pulls back, and his eyes crinkle into an affectionate smile. His fingers and thumbs brush along the curve of your cheek, tucking a loose tendril of your hair behind your ear before he drops one last kiss on your lips. He grins, and lifts himself up off of you, plunking himself into a criss-cross applesauce position. He proffers a hand, and you yelp out a giggle as he yanks you back up into a sitting position.

“I missed those lips.” He says affectionately. “They might be my very favourite thing.

“They missed you too. I didn’t realize how much I needed that.” You tip your head back, letting your head fall softly against the soft padding of the couch. “I feel like I haven’t be able to BREATHE lately…I’m so sorry if felt like I forgot about you.”  You reach for his hand, entwining your fingers with his in a grateful squeeze.

“Nah. I could never feel like that, love. You know I like to dick around, but it’s all in fun”, he chuckles. He adjusts himself, leaning forward, and his fingertips are slowly tracing those warm, soothing patterns into the soft inner crease of your arm again, just the way you love it.  “I’m so fucking proud of you for all this. I never did Uni, I could never pull all this off. You’re gonna kick the shit out of these finals, innit?? You kick the shit out of EVERYTHING.”

This man. Your heart seems to be connected to that lump in your throat again, you just…love him.  He always has your back, and always seems to know exactly what to say, or do, to pull you back from the brink. He is a keeper, and if you have anything to say about it, you’re not ever letting go.

You grin at him, and tug his scruff, guiding his face to yours. “I love you too, Teddy.”  You press a kiss to those lips, feeling the smile that’s spreading across his face, and you’re both giggling as the kisses turn into silly pecks and smooches.

You press hand to his chest and push him back to his side of the couch, and reach for the forgotten MacBook that’s fallen to the floor.

“I need a shower.” You stretch as you flick the screen back, reminding yourself where you left off. You glance at the adorable, scruffy man across from you, and raise an eyebrow.  “Give me another half hour, and maybe you’d care to join me…?”  

He face scrunches up and his eyes widen, and you can tell he is ALL about that invitation.  

“Only if I get to wash that pretty bum…” he says with a naughty grin.  

You lean forward and catch his lips in a quick kiss, before whispering “You can wash whatever you want, Teddy.”

COMMENTS/FEEDBACK are Loooove! 

*MASTERLIST Here*

[melifair]

ShieldShock - where Steve is the son of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor, and only finding out his mother is alive when Darcy is fangirling over WW who is on the news after the BvS battle in Metropolis.

So, here is another prompt that just couldn't be contained to five sentences lol! You should know I have been legit plotting out the logistics of how this could be possible time line wise, etc...for DAYS. 

It did turn out a bit differently than I originally had thought or planned, but I'm a sappy, fluffy writer who maybe can do a teensy bit of angst, so that's kinda what happened here. 

Also! This is completely unbeta’d! Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!  

---------------------

"Woah...that is so badass..."

Steve could hear Darcy and the tv faintly from the bedroom as he shaved in front of the bathroom mirror. He didn't mind shaving, but he couldn't deny that it was much easier to let himself go scruffy. Not only did it provide a certain degree of anonymity that his very recognizable jawline under normal circumstances certainly could not, but Darcy really liked his scruff. Only, it was a bit...rough on the sensitive skin of her thighs.

She didn't even ask him to shave - told him that it didn't bother her and that the red skin left behind after his intimate attentions faded faster than the hickeys he left behind. Still, the last time he shaved, she really like it too, so he determined that there would be balanced beard and non beard fun to be had.

"Steve! You have to come see this!!!"

"Just a sec," he called back as he rinsed his face.

She was sitting in the middle of the bed wearing one of his button down shirts and nothing else. The sleeves were rolled up not because they were just a bit too long on her, rather, not simply because they were too long on her. He'd worn it the night before and the sleeves were still rolled up. Her hair was tousled and she looked absolutely gorgeous.

He crawled back on the bed, settling behind her, and brushed her hair aside to press soft lingering kisses to the side of her neck.

"Steeeeeeeve," she tried and failed to bite back the moan that followed, which only made him smile and suckle the sensitive skin enough to leave a nice and noticeable mark, "you were supposed to come and look at news..."

"I can think of better things to do."

She snorted a little laugh, "I'm sure, big guy."

He wrapped his arms around her and started to unbutton his shirt.

"Seriously, Steve," she reached back to thread her fingers through his hair, " you really gotta see this. This woman, she's super strong and she fights with a shield like you."

That made him pause. The only people he knew that fought with a shield in any capacity, was Natasha, Bucky, and Sam. And even then, it was his shield.

When he looked up at the tv, his breath caught in his throat.

She was there. There on the screen, and she looked exactly the same as she had the last time he saw her. When he was eight years old. He'd only met her the once, and it was strange encounter. Strange but nice. She was a kind lady that at the time, seemed to be very fond of him. She had a wistful, if maybe a bit sad of a look on her face when she said his name. He didn't get to know her very well, because she didn't stay long, only long enough for him to have met her and know what she was like.

He didn't find out who she really was until he was older, when his Ma told him the truth about the kind and beautiful woman that he only met the one time.

“Babe,” Darcy looked over her shoulder, “what's wrong?”

He couldn't say anything at first. The shock of recognition overwhelmed him completely.

Darcy shifted in his arms, and touched his cheek pulling his thoughts and attention back from the whirlwind of questions and memories that battled to the surface of his consciousness all at once.

"Are you okay?"

Her expression was worried and she brought up her other hand to his other cheek to recenter his focus on her.

"Steve, what's going on?"

He shook his head - an unconscious attempt to shake the bumbling thoughts - and took a deep breath. But the words still caught in his throat.

"The...Wonder Woman," Darcy said when he couldn't say anything, “Do you know her?”

Steve took a deep breath, and exhaled. It took him a minute, but he shakily nodded. She tilted her head in confusion, her brows furrowing, and the look on her face beseeching.

"I didn't know she was still alive...that she could still be alive...she had to go away...Ma said she was special, that she had to go away because she was different...she didn't tell who she really was until I was older. Said I was too young to understand when she left. I didn't know she was...", he gestured at the tv, "she looks exactly the same..."

Darcy looked back at the tv, not quite knowing what to say, but finally managed, "wait, are you telling me that she knew your mother?"

With a disbelieving huff he shook his head - not quite sure how to say the thing that he couldn't quite believe - even though she was right there, in the breaking news report.

"She...IS my mother."

"What?!" Darcy exclaimed, "but Sarah?"

Darcy's hand moved down to his shoulders and caressed the bare skin there, the action a silent apology to her outburst.

"She was my Ma. Sarah Rogers," he began to explain, the words coming a bit easier now, "but she couldn't have children.

She told me when I was older, after my father had passed, about my birth mother and birth father. What happened to them, and why she...Diana...couldn't stay."

They were quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room was the news report they had in all honesty tuned out, until, "I was named after him. My biological father."

After his revelation, it was a while before they said anything, and Steve would have feared Darcy's potential anger or at the very least for her to be upset with him - after all, he wasn't exactly what everyone had thought all this time, he'd never been, and he carried that secret. He carried that lie of omission nearly his whole life. Through all its extraordinary twists and turns.

But Darcy didn't pull away, she didn't yell at him, or judge him. She had listened, had offered him comfort even in her confusion and doubt.

"Steve," she said after glancing back at the tv, his mother on the screen just leapt about thirty feet to beat back some abomination of a monster, "this is incredible!"

She leaned in to kiss him and cradled his face between her hands, a bright smile on her face.

"I..." Steve started, "it is...but...why? How? Would she even remember me?"

His question made her pause in consideration. She then shut off the tv, and pushed him back on the bed until he was laying down, settling in beside him, her fingers stroking lightly over his chest.

"We're gonna figure this out," she kissed the skin over his heart, "I'll be here through all of it with you."

He finally managed a small smile, capturing her hand in his and giving a gentle squeeze, "I love you. So damn much."

She looked up at him, smiling back, "love you too."

[hazel3017]

Right Kind of Wrong 11/?

Previously: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 13 - So this is the second of the 3 parts I hadn’t reposted. It immediately follows part 10.

Losing the gold medal game sucks in more ways than one. Not just because they lose to Canada, and to Claude – and fucking hell, his captain is going to be a complete troll next season. More than usual, even. Fuck.

Losing also means Zhenya doesn’t get to see Sid until October again—maybe September if he can be convinced—which would have happened anyway, but would have hurt less if Russia had won.

That’s what he tells himself.

(The lie never makes him feel any better.)

Zhenya has never been in a relationship where he gets to be with his partner during the season before, or for a measure of it, anyway. He’s so used to spending his summers back in Russia with his Russian lovers—he’s been spoiled, he realises. Because the busy schedule of hockey has kept him from getting a chance to really miss his lovers when he’s been in a relationship, but summer offers no such distractions.

It should.

He has all this time now. No hockey or other obligations to dictate where he goes or where he stays, and Zhenya should be loving that, should be jet setting all over Europe with his friends, but—    

He can’t share any of it with his boyfriend, because the media is still speculating about whether or not they are an actual couple, and it’s freaking Sidney out. Even if the media weren’t actively looking to catch the two of them in compromising positions, Sidney still wouldn’t have spent his summer with him, because of course Sidney Crosby does have hockey and other obligations to dictate where he goes and where he stays. Sidney has always been generous with his time like that.

He has Nate MacKinnon too.

(Fucking Nate MacKinnon.)

Zhenya tries to keep busy. He hangs out with friends, goes through his usual summer routine of meeting family and distant relatives and ends up in all sorts of baffling situations.

(He’s made to milk a mechanised cow on a TV-show, and when he tells Sidney about it on the phone later, Zhenya smiles, helplessly fond, as Sidney laughs and laughs and laughs.

Zhenya knows he’s in love by how endearing he finds the ridiculous sound.)

Sidney, meanwhile, is travelling all around North America, with Nate Mackinnon, working out and getting a tan and attending weddings and growing a beard.

“You’re growing a beard,” Zhenya says when they Skype sometime in early July. “Why you grow a beard?”

“You don’t like it? Nate says it looks good.”

Zhenya bristles, watching as Sidney strokes a hand over his scruff, looking thoughtful.

“Should I get rid of it, you think? I just wanted to try something new this summer. It felt like time for a change, you know?”

“I’m like very much. I’m like most,” Zhenya says defiantly. He doesn’t, but he’s sure as hell not going to let his boyfriend’s grooming habits be influenced by the oh-so-helpful input of Nate MacKinnon.

And besides, he can see that Sidney really is pleased by the dark patches of hair. God help him.

“You look pretty,” Zhenya says, because that will never not be true, even with the scruffy beard. Maybe it will fill in eventually. That, at least, would make it look better, Zhenya thinks. Probably.

Sidney blushes. “Men aren’t pretty,” he says, as he always does when Zhenya starts waxing poetics about how lovely he is—mostly just to see Sidney flush a dark, dark red, but also because Zhenya really is that sappy.

“You are,” he insists, smiling when he watches Sidney’s blush deepen. He takes pity on him, though, and asks about the wedding he’ll be attending later that day.

He’s not going to be at the actual ceremony, Sidney explains, which is why he has yet to get dressed.

“You even have pants that fit?” Zhenya teases, truly appreciating the view of Sidney bent over at the waist, rooting around in his sock drawer in clear view of the webcam. He’s clad only in his boxers, the material stretched obnoxiously taut over his big ass. God, but Zhenya misses that ass.

“Shut up,” Sidney says, looking over his shoulder to glare at Zhenya. “It’s not that big.”

It is, but Zhenya is kind enough not to push the issue.

“And yes, I do have pants that fit.”

“Because you get custom made!” Zhenya snickers, as if he doesn’t have to go to the trouble himself more often than not.

“I’m logging off if you’re going to be a jerk,” Sidney says, and has done so enough times before that Zhenya knows it’s not an empty threat.

“Okay, okay.” He laughs. “I’m stop now.” He watches as Sidney straightens with a fresh pair of socks in his hands; they’re striped black and blue because Sidney doesn’t believe in white socks.

Zhenya watches as Sidney puts them on and settle back in front of the computer. Sidney smiled at him softly. He looks wistful. “I miss you,” Sidney says, looking at him so warmly Zhenya feels his breath catch in his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want to do the press thing in New York this year? They’d love to have you.”

Zhenya snorts, and says nothing about how he’s planning to make the trip anyway. He doesn’t want to spoil the surprise. “Don’t need me when big star Sidney Crosby be there.” He pokes his tongue out to show he’s teasing. “No, not need to,” he goes on, shrugging carelessly. “Claude be there. Too soon to see captain.”

Sidney shakes his head. “I don’t get you two at all. You’re teammates. And friends, right? But I’ve never heard either of you say something nice about the other.”

“Ha! Claude not nice!”

“Yes, I think so,” Sidney says, exasperated. “Used to think so,” he corrects with a grimace at Zhenya’s pointed look. “But you’re his teammate.”

Zhenya grumbles under his breath, not willing to admit that a lot of his ire stems from the kiss Claude had planted on Sidney, on live television. He’d essentially done it as a favour to Zhenya, but still. He’d rather Claude had kept his hands to himself.

Sidney sighs softly. “Fine. Keep your secrets. See if I care.” He’s smiling, so Zhenya doesn’t think he’s nearly as annoyed as he tries to appear to be.

They’re interrupted by the sound of Sidney’s phone beeping, and Sid glances at it, cursing at whatever it is he sees there.

“Shit! It’s this late already?” He looks back at Zhenya, sighing regretfully. “I gotta go, babe. Nate is picking me up in ten minutes and I’m not even dressed.”

Zhenya scowls. “MacKinnon going too?”

“Yes, of course,” Sidney says matter of factly, as if this shouldn’t even be put into question.

Zhenya’s scowls deepen.

He doesn’t even get a proper goodbye before Sidney is spewing out apologies and promises to call him soon before he’s logging off, disappearing from Zhenya’s screen as though he’d never been there in the first place.

Zhenya curses.

Fucking Nate MacKinnon.  

[steakout-05]

miscellaneous digital barry sketches

every time i draw this man i just make him more and more beefy. like. i've given him such a strong chin and big features i think my barry simpery has reached a boiling point heeheehaahaa

also the eyelashes!! they make him more babygirl!!

i headcanon that he's bi and this would be his reaction to seeing the most beautiful people ever in front of his very eyes.... he literally goes awooga heart bursting out of chest jaw drop and completely forgets everything he's doing for a solid 5 minutes

quick little side angle of barry :) i like giving him a bit of an underbite cause he looks more,,, attractive i guess? slightly goofy? but i think i need to make his hair a liiiittle less slicked back maybe....

me when barry.... ignore the singular line down his face i forgot to erase it oups