#and refuses to fess up

[b33tlejules]

using generative ai for fanart and fanfiction is literally so vile. where the fuck is the joy of creation.

[champselysees]

The pain of posting on anon is the fact that sometimes someone you know comments and you’re stuck in your cage screaming hi I know you except you’re anon so they don’t know it’s you and it’s this stupid circle—

[stealingisbadandyoushouldfeelbad]

Boomsta really said "you won't bully me into admitting to my crimes".

[highdefhoetry]

in his hands.

cw: nsfw!! female reader, hand kink, cnc-ish, fingering, G-spot stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, verbal teasing, praise, use of term "babygirl", aftercare, some mild possessiveness, caleb is a meaniehead

word count: 1760

Caleb sits across the table from you, completely oblivious to your stolen glances as he twirls the pen between his fingers. He follows a strange pattern where he spins it once, twice, then lays the tip back onto the blank sheet of paper in front of him. His fingers tap, tap, tap on the edge, clicking the pen open and closed. The black beads on his bracelet clink against each other with every movement, the perfect accessory to the thick ring on his index finger. You find yourself unable to look away, despite knowing what would happen if you were noticed.

You’ve always liked his hands. To you they were perfect, lovely to look at and even better to hold. The length of his fingers. The large size of his palm. The chapped skin on his knuckles. The warmth you felt whenever thw two of you held hands. They were a comforting familiarity, one part of him that remained unchanged yet had grown with him as he matured.

You understood why he still called you pipsqueak. With palms pressed against one another, yours still looked tiny compared to his.

While you're busy daydreaming, he plays with his pen a few more times, seemingly lost in thought, before he suddenly looks up and meets your eyes. When he notices you staring back, a little smirk creeps up his face, one you know will be followed by playful teasing. You quickly turn your head away.

You’ve been caught. And when you glance back at him and see the cocky look in his eye, you know that he’s not going to let it go until he’s teased you to hell and back.

“What’s up, pipsqueak?” he teases. “See somethin’ you like?”

You shake your head and bury your face back into your work, trying to ignore his quiet chuckles. 

“Don’t get all shy now,” he cocks his head to one side to better see your face, seeking out the flustered expression you’re trying so desperately to hide. “Fess up. Why were you starin’ at me?”

You stay silent, mumbling some half-assed excuse about not being able to focus. He laughs at your poor attempt to change the subject. A sudden warmth covers your hand, followed by soft strokes from calloused fingertips. When you turn your face away to hide the heat rising in your cheeks, he takes your hand and holds it gently.

“Come on, now. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

He rubs his thumb across your knuckles, slipping it in the spaces between each finger. You eventually succumb to his gentle touch, intertwining your fingers in his. You toy with the ring on his index finger, poke at the black beads on his bracelet, trace the patches of flushed red on his knuckles that contrasts the paleness of his skin. You stroke each one with your thumb and index finger, feeling the dry, cracked skin beneath your hands.

A good deal of time passes before you finally snap out of it. When you meet Caleb’s gaze once again, you find him grinning victoriously, as if he’s just won some unspoken contest you never agreed to enter.

“You…!” is all you manage to stutter out.

“Me?” he smiles innocently. “What did I do?”

“...”

He lifts your hand to his lips and gives it a small peck in an attempt to softly coax you out of your shell. It makes you melt from the inside out, but still, you refuse to admit defeat. He watches you carefully for a few more seconds, giving you one last chance to come clean. When you don’t, he gets up from his seat across the table and circles around to your side. Before you can get a word of protest out, he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder, carrying you straight to the bedroom.

He plops you down on the soft comforter, trapping you in place with both hands at either side of your body. You try struggling, but he simply pins you down by straddling your waist, making it so that all you can do is wriggle slightly beneath him. He leers down at you with a wild, uncouth grin, like a wild beast about to consume its prey. 

The sweet, honey-eyed Caleb is gone. You realize a little too late that you are totally, completely, undeniably fucked.

“I won’t let you run away, from this” he growls, with one hand on your thigh and the other gripping your arm, holding you firmly in place.

“Caleb…!”

“I saw you staring at my hands,” he gives your thigh a squeeze, smirking when he hears your muted squeal. “What do you want me to do with them? Hmm?”

You put up a half-assed fight, pretending to hate how he’s cornered you despite your growing wetness. He quickly picks up on this after slipping his hand under your panties. His fingertips brush against the entrance of your hole, circling it for a moment before sliding towards your swollen bud. He smiles when you let out a small moan.

“Tell me what you want, babygirl.”

His voice is gentle and low, but his touch is firm. He rubs your clit in a slow, deliberate motion, with just enough pressure to build you up but not enough to push you over. You arch your back and press your mound further into his palm, begging him without words. 

“Say it,” he leans forward, mumbling in your ear. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

You start to whine, unable to handle the way he’s teasing you. He’s being extra mean tonight, barely flicking your throbbing bud and ignoring the attempts you’re making to guide his fingers into your hole. You know he won’t comply until you give him what he wants. Which is the last thing you want to do.

“Mmm… Caleb…” you whimper cutely, hoping to appeal to his sense of mercy. He chuckles darkly, his once friendly eyes filled with sadistic glee.

“What are the magic words?”

“Nghhh… Caleb, please!”

“Please, what? I’m pleasing you right now, aren’t I?” 

He sticks one finger into your pussy, just for a moment. When he pulls it out, he slaps your mound hard just to throw you off. The tiny, surprised shriek you let out is met with a mean-spirited laugh. 

“Okay!!” You cry out, unable to hold back any longer. “Finger me, please!”

“Yeah? You want my hands inside you?”

“Yes! I want them inside me, please…”

A wicked grin stretches across his face as he savors his victory. Satisfied with your pathetic pleas, he finally yanks down your panties and gives you what you want.

First one finger pushes itself into your hole. He pumps it in and out, making sure to caress that sweet, sweet spot inside of your walls. You’re singing like a bird within seconds. Another finger is added, easing in gently so as not to hurt you. He finds his rhythm and uses your moans as his guide, focusing on your G-spot to build you up to the biggest orgasm possible. He presses his thumb against your clit, massaging it in tandem with his rapid fingering, and soon you’re squirting all over his hand. He pulls out momentarily to lick his fingers, savoring the taste of you on his skin. His amethyst eyes lock onto yours, feasting on the desperation permeating your gaze. Distracted, you cry out when he shoves his fingers back inside.

This time, he’s a bit more forceful. That first little orgasm was just a warm up. When he gets like this, one is never enough, and he won’t stop until he’s brought you to tears. With his swift fingers curled inside you, he pumps in and out at such a fast pace that you begin to see stars. That one little spot inside of you becomes his target, a button he presses over and over again until you reach climax once again. The second time is much more intense than the first; you can feel the soaking wet bed sheets underneath you, along with the slick fluid covering his fingers. 

Still not enough. He wants more.

He fingerfucks you again and again, forcing out countless orgasms that shoot through your body like hot lightning bolts. Your voice starts to feel hoarse from the screaming and shrieking, sounds that only seem to spur him on. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, having given up on keeping track long after the third or fourth. And Caleb shows no signs of stopping. 

He whispers his affection into your ear while he plays with your pussy, telling you how beautiful you look as he makes a mess of you and how lovely your voice sounds when you make those cute noises for him. He fills your head with sweet praise, his words worshipping your form and beauty, weakening you with every syllable.

“That’s it,” he coos while coaxing the last orgasm from you. “That look on your face… that’s mine. Only make that face for me.”

You mumble something in agreement, barely able to form coherent words as you cum one more time. Inexplicable pleasure ripples through your body, setting ablaze every last nerve ending from head to toe. You go limp, covered in sweat and completely worn out from his torment. Caleb pulls out his fingers, licks your fluids off his skin one last time before he switches gears. He grabs a towel from the dresser and gently pats your face dry, pushing some of your tangled hair away from your face. That crazed look in his eyes is now gone, and once again he admires you with utmost affection. He asks if you need water, if you want a warm blanket, if you wanted to be held or left alone. You say yes to the first two, and cling to him when he asks the third. 

After you finish drinking a full glass of water, he wraps you up in the warmest blanket on the bed and cuddles up next to you, playing with your hair in a soothing, gentle manner.

“Soooo,” the teasing tone returns to his voice. “When were you gonna tell me you had a thing for my hands?"

You pout at him, feigning annoyance, but he just laughs and hugs you tighter. 

“I’m definitely going to use this against you, by the way.”

You don’t have the energy to argue back. Exhausted, your heavy eyelids shutter closed, and soon you drift into a peaceful slumber, which Caleb’s arms still wrapped snugly around you.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

The Great Bucky Bake Off | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One shot - 3.5k words

An Avengers retreat takes a turn for the better when Bucky decides to eat your pot brownies… all of the pot brownies.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content. Drinking, casual drug use, Avengers wearing onesies for reasons, very flirty Bucky, p in v & oral sex. Rated R for ridiculous.

A/N: Happy birthday, Bucky Barnes!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Okay, ‘fess up, who ate all my brownies?” You turned to stare down the rest of the team, admittedly a little slow on your feet already.

The scene in the living room could only be described as chaotic. When Tony suggested he fly the team out to his remote cabin for “rest, recuperation and team building”, you had been fully on board. You were even more on board when he had you buy everyone fluffy animal onesies and you’d signed yourself up to a lifetime of being obsessed with your job the day you received an email to source as much weed, alcohol and Asgardian liquor as possible. Being the Avengers PA certainly had its perks. 

“Not me!” Steve admitted, far too quickly. “I didn’t eat them.” He shook his head, sending the dog ears on top of his onesie flopping about. 

You narrowed your eyes, “Well, you sure know something.” He looked the picture of innocence until he pulled Sam into the conversation. 

“Tell 'er Sam, we dunno nothin’ 'bout brownies." 

"Nuthin’” Sam shook his head too, his beer sloshing dramatically in its glass and wetting his hand. “My wings!” He steadied the bottle and brushed the stray liquid from the soft Eagle wings that made up the arms of his outfit.

“Have you spoken to James?” Natasha asked, leaning next to you and swiping crumbs from the plate, the last of the joint you’d shared placed delicately between her fingers. Somehow she managed to make the black onesie look very stylish, the arms rolled up to the silvery spiderwebs embroidered on the elbows and shoulders.

“James? Bucky?" 

Organising and taking part in retreats was your second favourite part of your job. Bucky took the top spot, miles ahead of everything else with his handsome, stubbled face and gruff but gentlemanly manner. Despite being part of the team for a while, he still kept to the background, staying out of the way and keeping quiet. He was always especially polite to you, holding the door and making sure you were included all the time, even if he never really stayed that long at Stark’s parties or Steve’s team building exercises.

Deep down you hoped it was because he saw you the same way you saw him, in your dreams, surrounded by little hearts. 

But life just wasn’t that kind, and you took his friendship gladly if that was all he could give. 

"Why would Bucky eat them, can he even get high?” You slid forwards, leaning on the counter and clutching the empty tray. 

“Bambi!” The four of you whipped around, surprised. Bucky bounced into the room with an enthusiasm that Steve hadn’t seen for decades. He also had chocolate on his cheeks and crumbs all down his front making him instantly guilty. You looked down at your onesie, light brown and speckled like a deer with tiny antlers on the hood. 

“Ha, yeah, like Bambi.” You giggled.

“And I’m Thumper!” He laughed back pulling the hood of his own pyjamas up and letting the long, grey, ears drop in front of his face. 

“Because you punch people?” You were momentarily confused, your brain refusing to work and instead focusing on the too tight fabric around Bucky’s arms. 

Behind you Sam coughed to cover his laughter and Natasha turned away, eyes full of mirth. 

“No! Thumper in Bambi!" 

"The girl rabbit?” Tony dropped down onto the huge sectional couch, surprisingly sober. Although you were sure that had more to do with promising Pepper to keep the cabin safe, rather than any personal choice. 

“Thumper is a boy.” Bucky insisted, eyes never leaving yours, his smile boyish and relaxed.

“How would you know?” Sam scoffed, leaning over the back of the couch, positively gleeful when Steve whispered that Bambi was also a boy and they fell back laughing together.

“Because, Sam, I’ve seen Bambi." 

"What?” Tony’s snort of derision didn’t go unnoticed, but you shot him a glare. This was possibly the most relaxed you’d ever seen Bucky, you wouldn’t be letting anyone, including your boss, spoil it. 

“I saw Bambi, in 1942, when it first came out,” he said proudly. 

“That’s right, I remember!” Steve jumped up, the Asgardian liquor cocktail that Natasha had rustled up earlier starting to take effect. “We went with your sisters, Rebecca cried when Bambi’s mom got shot and he was all alone." 

"Don’t spoil it, Stevie.” Bucky chastised, turning back to you as quickly as possible, “Have you seen it? Do you want to see it? We could see it?”

You nodded but he ignored you, continuing to talk as he got closer and closer, backing you into the kitchen island where the empty brownie tray dropped with a clang. 

"We can go, I’ll take you, Saturday, you can have as much popcorn and soda as you like.” His right hand swayed by his side, nudging closer to yours until your fingers touched. “What d'ya say?" 

Every fibre of your being screamed yes, just as you’d internally jumped for joy whenever he came by your office or handed you a coffee. But those times you were sober, calm, collected. Now you were four drinks and half a joint deep, floating off into the clouds. Professional judgement be damned. 

So you screamed "Yes!” outloud for once. 

He beamed, throwing his arms around you and squeezing just a little too tight until you squeaked. “Good, gonna be my best girl, my Bambi and I’ll be Thumper, buy you lots of popcorn and - oh - you’re really soft.” His hands found the back of your hood, pulling it up to sit on top of your head, letting it fall into your eyes. 

“Yeah it’s nice, right?” 

“S’fluffy.” Bucky’s thumbs brushed over your lips and down your neck, just inside the hood for a moment, before finding your shoulders and arms, rubbing the fuzzy material until you felt static build on your skin. “You’re really cute, y’know,” he whispered. “My own little Bambi.”

“I know.” You giggled back, picking up the joint again so you’d had something to do with your hands other than grip the front of your own outfit. 

“We didn’t smoke weed back in the day,” he said, conversationally, as if he didn’t have his hands in your pockets, pulling out your lighter and a lip balm. 

“No?” You took a drag, blowing the smoke to the side politely. 

“Did a lot of cocaine though, keep us awake on missions.” 

“Jesus. That’s…intense.” 

He nodded, watching your fingers against your lips, the little pout when you exhaled. 

“Can I?” 

“You ate a whole tray of brownies, Bucky, I don’t know if you should have anymore.” You extended your arm away from his grabby hands, hoping Natasha would come and take it away again, but to no avail. Instead, he lifted you onto the counter, pinned your leg down and followed the line of your arm to your outstretched hand. His lips brushed the backs of your fingers when he took the twist of paper into his lips. You waved him over and he held his breath as he returned to you, leaning in close and only exhaling when you pulled your hoods together, his nose against yours. 

Instinctively you inhaled, the rush of smoke and the smell of Bucky was overwhelming. You giggled again, trapping him against you with an arm around his neck and your legs around his waist. 

“Haven’t shotgunned since college.” You smiled, everything was so floaty and soft, fuzzy round the edges and so fucking warm. When did it get so warm? 

“You know with your floppy ears you could be-” your laughter bubbled up, cutting you off, “you could- sorry - oh my god - you could be Bucks Bunny!" 

Bucky did not seem to like that nickname as much as Thumper and told you so, pouting until you let him take another long drag. 

Time seemed to slow down between Bucky’s words, his hands, the way your glass of wine felt in your hand and the texture of his onesie. They were a good idea, so soft, good for petting, and Bucky was petting you too. His right hand was burning hot, even through the thick material, the pads of his fingers were calloused and rough, but the palm was soft. His left hand was so rigid, making a whirring noise. When you put your cheek to the artificial bicep it ticked pleasantly and you smiled, sighing and closing your eyes so you could concentrate on the joined sounds of Bucky’s heart and his prosthesis. In turn, Bucky held you gently, his metal fingers gentle on your back where he kept you snuggled in tight beside him. 

You were faintly aware of the ongoing chatter across the room, but it had faded away into background static. Your soul focus was on the way two of Bucky’s eyebrow hairs stuck out from the others, the little patch of grey forming in his stubble, the dark fleck of colour in his iris, the way his mouth looked saying your name. Oh shit, he’s saying your name, say something back! 

“Uh huh, yeah, uhm - maybe?” 

He tipped his head to the side, bunny ears flopping over too, and came closer again. His hands on your cheeks. “I’ll help you.” He leant forwards to rest his forehead against yours. 

“What’ya doing?” You tried to look at your forehead too but your eyes seemed to stop when they got to your eyelashes. Annoying. 

“Telling you what I’m thinking without saying it.” 

“Oh, is it working?” 

“You have to tell me that, silly!”

“I don’t think it’s working,” you whispered, loudly, and Natasha groaned from the sofa closest to the kitchen. 

“These two are out, done, nothing more for them,” she declared, waving her glass of red wine. 

A chorus of yes and agreed sounded from the remaining Avengers. Clint had already fallen asleep across one of the arm chairs, his beer dribbling onto his shirt from the neck of the bottle. Steve and Sam were deep in debate about the merits of Japanese whiskey over original scotch whisky and Tony was watching you both intently, his own glass of Glengoyne warming in his hand. The way the condensation formed under his fingers was fascinating, and you told Bucky as much, pulling him close to your cheek so you could get the same view. 

 “I concur, what did you do to my PA, Barnes?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a bad influence.” 

“She’s not you PA, she’s our PA. So she’s ours to influence,” he returned, proudly. 

Tony just continued to stare, pointedly, sipping his drink.

“What you gonna influence me to do, Buck?” You kicked your legs against the kitchen counter, a picture of innocence, and Tony laughed into his drink. 

But Bucky looked at you very seriously, bent to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck, his leg between yours, muscular and firm despite the fluffy clothes. 

“I’m gonna influence you to steal all of Stark’s M&Ms.” He tried to keep quiet but ended up choking out the end of his sentence around his own uncontrollable giggles. 

“Oh my god, you know he has me take the red ones out, says they’re smug. I have so many red M&Ms in my flat.” 

“Hey, that’s supposed to be a secret!” 

“Wanna eat all the red ones I brought with me?” 

Bucky helped you down from the counter and then across to the pantry where you’d stashed the huge bags of snacks and sweets when you first arrived. Despite Steve’s shouts of leaving some for everyone, you closed the door and sat down, ready to tuck in, wrappers and chocolate littering the floor while you dug about for your favourites. Bucky sat on the floor, encouraging you to sit between his legs, keeping his hands moving over the downy material of your onesie. 

“Okay, Bambi, what’ve you got for me?” 

Before you could even attempt to feed him anything, Steve wrenched the door open, hands on his hips. “I think you need to sleep this one off, not eat more chocolate,” he insisted, waving at you both to get back up. 

“Nuh-uh, Steve, not leaving.” Bucky tightened his arms around your waist and nuzzled into the back of your neck. “You smell like cake,” he exclaimed, happily, ignoring Steve. 

“Sam! Can you help me shift Bucky?!” 

“What about me?” You pouted, holding Bucky’s hands around your waist. 

“You need to go to bed as well.” Natasha extended her hand to yours in an effort to pull you off the floor, but Bucky’s grip was too strong. 

Eventually, it took everyone to wrestle you away from Bucky and bundle you into your room. In the corridor, Bucky howled his anger, breaking out of his room to easily find you in yours. 

“Bambi! There you are! Those awful hunters took you!” he cooed, squishing your cheeks again and kissing your pouty lips. Deep down your brain registered that this was your first kiss with him, that the man who had been consuming your thoughts for months was actually kissing you, willingly, and had broken a door so he could get close enough to do so. 

“Buh-kee, it was just Nat and Tony,” you drawled, your lips moving gently against his, reluctant to pull away. 

“I know, but I didn’t like it, wanna stay here with you.” 

Natasha, who was still trying to wrestle you into bed, gave up. “If you two stay in here together, and stay out of trouble, I won’t say anything.” She pointed at you both, eyebrows slightly raised. 

“Promise I’ll be good, Natty.” You fluttered your eyelashes at her dramatically, hoping to seem more trustworthy, but she just rolled her eyes. “Fine, stay here.” 

And then you were alone. 

You hesitated for a moment, watching the slow movement of Bucky’s face, fascinated by the way the muscles tightened minutely when he smiled. 

“I’m going to kiss you again now,” he stated, so formal that you broke out into another fit of laughter which made you hiccup and grab for his chest to steady yourself. 

He ignored you, bending his head and catching your lips with his, messy and rushed. 

“You taste real nice, you know?” Bucky licked across your lips again, swallowing your giggles. 

“You taste nice too, ate all my damn brownies.” With a long lick up his chocolate smeared cheek, you kissed him back, tangling your hands in his hair, trying to push the too hot, stuffy, fluffy, onesie off his shoulders. 

Bucky shrugged, and sat back to push the material down to his hips. Your eyes followed the movements of his hands, the way each inch of muscle revealed itself and, suddenly, you were hungry again, lunging forwards to bury your face between his pecs. Starting at his sternum, you kissed further and further down, shoving him backwards so you could climb on top of him, nipping and kissing bruises in a slow trail towards the end of the zipper. With a twist of his wrist, his cock sprang free from its confines and you bent down to lick the pearlescent precum leaking from his tip. 

“Fuck, Bambi.” He dropped his head back, one hand gripping the pillows and the other cupping the back of your head while you licked the head like an ice cream. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.” 

You sat back on your heels, letting your fingers dance up and down his cock. “Feels soft,” you observed, thoughtfully, “Hard and soft at the same time, isn’t that funny?” 

Bucky couldn’t reply, he just laid back, watching the woman he’d pined after for months finally touch him the way he’d dreamed. It seemed surreal to be here, in your bed, with your hands all over his body like you owned it. Well, he thought, you did own it, you just didn’t really understand that yet. 

“I wanna touch you, too,” he insisted, “Can I?” His hands hovered over your clothes, so close to the zipper his fingertips brushed it when you breathed. You nodded and he lowered the metal slowly. 

Everything seemed slow now, even his voice, mumbling against your skin when he kissed down your breasts and took your nipple into his mouth. When he bit down a little, you giggled, his fingers tickling your sides, until you were both laughing again, half in and half out of your onesies, brains full of cotton wool and lust and nerves. 

“Hey, hey.” You tugged on his hair until he looked up, resting his cheek on your belly. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Yes, I’m so good with secrets!” He crawled back over your body, lowering his face close to yours. “You can whisper it or you can do it telepathically.” 

“I’m not telepathic, Bucky.” 

“Sure, like this.” He dropped his forehead to yours. “I know all your secrets now.” 

“No, you don’t!” You shoved him, but he didn’t move. 

“I do!”

“Tell me then.” 

His eyes roamed over your face, from your eyes to your lips as if he couldn’t help it. “You like me.” 

“Everyone likes you, Buck, you just think they don’t.” 

“No you like me, you want to step out with me, be my best girl.” He looked overjoyed to have revealed your secret before you could. “Am I right?”

“Don’t be mean to me, Barnes.” 

“I’m not being mean, I read your mind.” 

“You know what? Fuck off.” You shoved a second time, but he still didn’t move. 

“Wanna read my mind? I’ll help.” His forehead met yours again, sweat beading along your hairline from the stress of being so clearly seen by the man you’d been fantasising about for months. Before you could protest that only he could read minds while high, he was kissing you again. Slow and steady, his tongue nudging your lips gently until you opened for him, throwing your arms around his neck and letting the feeling of petal soft kisses take over you. 

He moved away only enough to take off his now too warm onesie, as well as your own, leaving you both naked and tangled together on the bed. He couldn’t get enough of touching you, he felt buoyant, happy in a way that he hadn’t for months, years, and he never wanted it to end. His fingers tingled when they touched you, though it was becoming harder and harder to stay in control. 

“Bucky, I want you,” you managed to squeak out between kisses, fumbling awkwardly between you both, hoping he understood.

"I want you too.” He nodded, bumping your heads together. 

You wriggled beneath him, guiding him between your legs until he was buried inside of you. 

“Damn it, Bambi, you feel soft everywhere.” His wide eyed expression made you smile.

“You’re kinda soft too, Bucky.” This side of him was one you’d been dying to see, unguarded and playful. 

He nuzzled your cheek and began to move, tentative at first and then faster. In your dreamy state, it was hard to know where you started and ended or how long you’d been locked together. 

You moved as one, slow and steady, enjoying the feel of each other’s warm skin and chocolate sweet kisses, breaking every now and again to stare at each other in awe. 

Bucky seemed to sense your approaching release before you did, speeding up when you fluttered around him, the erratic movement of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge of the bed until you both tumbled out. The pillows and sheets followed soon after, dropping on you in an avalanche of goose down and brushed cotton. 

You both paused in shock, your giggles broken by your fall, but then he was pulling you back down on top of him and holding your hips steady. 

“Bucky, I wanna - I gotta -” Your hand drifted between you again to touch your sensitive clit, just a little more pressure and you could feel your orgasm building. The tightness of your pleasure started between your legs and radiated out to your toes, making them curl against the sheepskin rug beneath you. 

Bucky followed after you, unable to control himself from the onslaught of sensation your clenching heat provided. 

You woke the next day in a tangle of limbs and bedding, your back sore from sleeping on the floor all night and your brain fuzzy. Beside you, still with a smear of chocolate on his cheek, Bucky continued to sleep. 

[oh-no-its-bird]

Ok so. Fic where Madara finds out Tobirama is into floral design.

He's the senju clan heir and his brother is the mokuton user, he knows all the flower meanings. He couldn't kill a plant if he tried.

So Madara finds him in his little flower garden room in his house, and tries to make fun of him at first bc floral design is a "womans hobby." And Tobirama just kind of dead eyed stares at him till Madara gets awkward and clears his throat and then tries to insist "oh but of course you uhh. Have other motives for this hobby Im sure."

Tobirama just kinda turns back to his pretty flowers and goes "no actually, this is purely for fun for me. I need something to relax."

and Madara, now suspicious and also very sure in the fact that theres no WAY this guy knows how to relax, is kinda "uhuh. sure. So what, the flowers are poisonous or something?"

Tobirama ignores him.

Over the next few days, Madara begins to spiral as he tries to figure out why exactly Tobirama has this garden bc he can NOT just grow and arrange flowers for fun. Impossible. Madara refuses to believe it.

Tobirama begins to show up to the tower with flowers in his hair. Madara is convinced he's being mocked. (He is.)

Madara breaks into Tobirama's house to steal a flower to check if its poisonous or maybe has medical properties or smthn. He researches flower meanings to know if maybe theres a code hidden in the flowers being grown. He goes as far as to research Senju religion bc maybe they have some sort of religious meaning then???

He can't just be growing them to grow them! The Senju is allergic to doing anything purely for relaxing or fun!

But the flowers come back as non poisonous and the meanings come back as ultimately nothing/irrelevant and the religious imagery is nonexistant

Madara slams his hands on Tobirama's desk and hisses that he's on to him. As Tobirama continues to stare at him blankly and go "you seem oddly invested in my 'womans hobby.' Perhaps you're interested in a arranging some flowers of your own?"

(......the flowers were poisonous. This is Tobirama's poison garden, he switched the flowers out when he knew Madara would start stealing them to look into. He would have fessed up but the womans hobby thing pissed him off, and then Madara continued to make such a fool of himself ab it he just committed.)

He really is allergic to doing anything for pure fun/relaxing, there must always be some sort of underlying purpose.

[catboydreamer]

friendships to games to lovers

Scaramouche x reader, childhood friends (reluctant) to lovers :)

you two grew up in the same neighborhood as kids, and eventually ended up hanging out (if you could call it that)

you pestering him constantly until he finally gives in with a grumble. 

eventually he starts seeking you out too, making up ridiculous lies that you see right through but pretend to be oblivious about. all because you know he’ll back down if you call it out, and you refuse to see that happen. 

you had moved homes when you were 15 years old but what are the odds you’d attend the same college as him?! 

actually, it was a local community college in his (and previously yours) hometown.

when he sees you he tries to keep up with his snarky comments but you can see a glimmer of emotion just boiling over the edge

he’s a shit talker but a really good gift giver. he can’t help shoving his homemade lunch towards you, muttering quietly, “if you’re anything like before, you forgot to pack a lunch. and im not having you eat the shitty food in here.” 

he’s grown taller now, too. something you thought wasn’t possible out of him. he didn’t tower over you or anything like that but it was enough to give him an edge. 

as you rekindle a relationship, whatever it is, he uses his height a lot. he’s almost cocky about it; reaching above you to grab a book you needed, often leaning too far into your space. or even on more than one occasion, reaching into the cupboard to grab a mug from the highest shelf when he knows you’re leaning against the counter, right in front of it. and if you question it, he shrugs, “hm. cant say I’ve noticed it.”

he’s messing with you intentionally. he watches your reactions like a hawk, intensity flickering over his eyes.

deep down he just wants you to like him as much as he likes you but he wants to see you squirm a little bit too. 

it’s just the type of man he is, to tease you before letting you know exactly what’s going through his head. 

well, he has no intentions of being truthful actually, just dancing around the past and the present. 

he wants the transition to be painfully slow until you find yourself captured by his presence as if it’s always been there.

though, it’s you, so that doesn’t really happen. plus, he finds himself lost on you, frustrated when gestures don’t /seem/ to affect you that much.

in reality, you’ve gotten good at hiding emotions. your fear of being someone to play with rises up. 

it all comes to a head one autumn evening. 

he invited you over for dinner one evening, with all the usual antics.

he’s pulling a flirtatious gaze while mocking you in the same sentence. 

maybe something set you off that day or the tension just grew to be too much. after all, you were never known for your patience. 

the two of you were in the middle of eating dinner but the exact meal was lost on you. you didn’t care what it was. your skin felt red hot. 

one final stupid comment with a sly smile made you break in half. 

“you know what? im so over your stupid games, kunikuzushi.”

his eyes widen for a moment before a look of clarity falls into his gaze, “what are you talking about-“

you cut him off cleanly, “no. you know exactly what’s going through im talking about. I’m not gonna play your games anymore. you can properly ‘fess up to your feelings or this is it.”

his blood runs cold; he’s deathly pale more than usual. there’s an unusual fear in his eyes as his head drops so you can’t see his full reign of emotions as he speaks. all you want to do is lift his chin with the tip of your finger tips so he can’t escape you but you leave such a bold move for another occasion. 

his words are quick to the point, “I only wanted to know if you… l-loved me back,” his voice is full of cracks.

a smooth blush blossoms over his cheeks and the tips of his ears. he’s more than unready to truly speak of it all. 

slowly his gaze lifts up to meet yours; a soft twinkle in your eyes and a warming smile pulling at your lips. 

“you’re so stupid. I’ve always loved you.”

his heart jumps to his throat and he’s frozen in position. 

“c’mere,” and you motion to your lap. 

he huffs, turning his head to the side. your eyes bore into him, not intending on taking no for an answer. 

he gives in after a few beats of silence. he sludges over to you, clumsily climbing into your lap. he’s technically bigger than you now but still slender enough that it’s not too much. 

he’s shaking like a leaf. you don’t comment on it and especially not on how his entire body slowly relaxes completely at your touch and you trace small circles over his shoulder blades. your other hand grips his hand into yours. 

you’ll be damned if you don’t give him more than enough physical affection even if he acts like he doesn’t need it. 

you smile up at him. he has melted completely under your touch but you don’t dare to speak it. 

his eyes dart away from your gaze as the phrase comes out in a quiet yet clear mumble, “I really do love you.”

you give his hand a firm squeeze, I know you do. 

[yanderenightmare]

head cannons for what being Gojo and Get's shared little captive housewife darling would be liked? ples

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

TW: yandere, captive reader

gn reader

They’re both awfully cuddly. Always wrapping their lanky arms around your waist and slugging their bodies against you, tugging on you and swaying you against them in a way it’s hard to keep balance, making it impossible to do anything but stand there and try and hold your weight as well as theirs.

Satoru is the worst of the pair, though – constantly ignoring whatever you’re doing in favor of picking you up and cuddling you on the couch when he feels like it – which is almost always when he’s home. Not that you do much else but humor them. But still, it’s annoying being in the middle of a chapter only for the pages to flap close when Gojo picks the book out of your hands, throwing it aside unceremoniously – his blue eyes pleading at you like a puppy, feeling ignored and pouty – asking you to play with his hair instead. He’s already laying himself against your chest with a smile and giddy laugh before you can as much as try and refuse.

Suguru is more respectful of your hobbies in that aspect. He’s usually the one that procures books and such for you. Always happy to discuss your thoughts. But sometimes, you suspect he gives you tricky reads just for the chance to explain them to you. He’s a little patronizing that way. Smiling while prying for your thoughts, offering a soft chuckle when you fess up and tell him it was a little beyond your abilities. 

Satoru feels left out when the two of you talk about books. He doesn’t read. But just to feel included, he’ll dump a stack of his old comics in your lap. He’s such a spoiler, though, and will tell you the entire plot and ending before you’ve even peeled a page open. He’s more of a movies and shows person. Forever in his childish ways, he’ll dib a character to represent him whenever the three of you are watching something – getting real pouty if the character ends up dying, almost to the point he’s completely disinterested in the rest of the story.

Both are shit cooks with appetites beyond your understanding. You never make enough, and it always ends up with the both of them whining for seconds. They have a bit of a maid kink the two of them. Waiving a pretty little white ruffled apron at you whenever they’re hungry – insisting on helping you tie it around your waist and neck in pretty bows. It always makes you feel a bit ridiculous.

It doesn’t make it any better that when you cook, there’s always one of them supervising. Not helping out, mind you – just watching and waiting, licking their lips when it starts smelling good – asking for taste tests like children. Often with big hands draped over your stomach and a chin either resting in the nook of your neck or atop your head. 

Satoru’s chattier than Suguru, but Suguru is better at asking you about your things. He’s a little more considerate of your feelings, making sure you’re as comfortable as you can be locked inside all day. That being said, he’s the tougher one when it comes to saying no to things as well. For example, you’re better off testing your luck with Satoru if you want to go outside.

You feel, for Satoru, it’s not too much about protecting you. You don’t think the guy knows what fear feels like. It’s more about coveting you. He’s possessive, prone to jealousy, and easily enraged – you remember from when the three of you were a somewhat normal throuple with somewhat normal boundaries. For him, this arrangement is just a whole lot simpler, keeping you away from anything that might inspire him to feel anything he doesn’t like.

Whereas with Suguru, you’re sure he’s actually scared something might happen to you, and that’s why he insists on keeping you inside. You’re only just a small thing, after all, with no cursed energy to talk about. You might become a target for their enemies if they’re not careful enough. Out there, you’re the greatest weapon against them, their greatest weakness. And he fears for the world when he thinks about what he and Satoru would do if they lost you.

Neither of them seems to care that it’s unreasonable.

[miik44]

Sevika x diva!reader (can be anything; smut or fluff)

Sevika and her diva girlfriend

HC'S

SFW with some implications

★ Sevika and you met at a bar. She decided to be be generous and told you "Drinks on me sweetheart" and you took liberty with that. You ordered drinks worth 600$ but when the next day came you felt a bit guilty. You tracked her down and paid her back 300$ (Which she later snuck back to you) But then you snuck them back to her. This was an endless game before you two finally settled it at the bar. Then later in bed.

★ Sevika is your personal swatch when you go out.

"Pleaaaseeeee 'Vika lemme use your hand, if I use mine, it will stain my pretty blouse not yours please" you pout and tug at her arm. She eventually gives in.

"Okay fine only a few" but ofcourse you took creative liberty.

★ Sevika hates mail day. She knows it'll take hours to get through the bills and credit charges.

★ You overspend a bit too much one day. So you buy a few pairs of lingerie at the end and when she asks you for the bill you simply distract her.

"Babe before I show you the bill dont you wanna see some lingerie I got?" You ask slyly.

"Ofcourse, How can I refuse" Sevika replies. She knows you're just distracting her and you overspent. But you do that everyday, plus a little fashion show in that lacy underwear won't hurt.

★ You wake up an hour early to get ready. Rather, Sevika makes you get up an hour early. She makes sure you're ready an hour before you both leave to go somewhere because she knows your extensive shower routine, skincare routine, makeup, deciding jewelry and shoes. It's endless.

★ When you're showing her dresses at a store and you ask for help with a zipper. Be ready for a quickie. This got both of you banned from ZARA when an employee caught you both in the act behind the curtained dressing room stall. Sevika didn't regret it one bit.

★ She hates going out to eat with you. You pick fancy places, you're picky, you take forever to decide, you don't finish your food and Sevika has to eat the leftovers. Plus you always order some funky ass food that Sevika is left to deal with. She loves seeing you dressed up but she doesn't know how many more snails or different forms of raw fish she can eat.

★ Movie night. Sevika would never tell anyone this but she loves movie nights. She loves watching chick-flicks with you while doing skincare and eating your fancy 20$ caramel popcorn. She lays her head on your lap while you pop the popcorn into her mouth.

★ Sevika secretly loves when you rope her into your fancy stuff. "Spa day? EUGHHHHH that's too weird, I don't want a stranger massaging me" LIAR. She loves the feeling of being pampered and taken care of sometimes.

★ She secretly used some of your products and felt guilty and fessed up to you. In return, you gave her a home spa treatment. She sticks to her Axe bodywash-shampoo-conditioner-facewash-toothpaste-motor oil bottle which lasts her forever and serves an all in one purpose. But she loves when you use your little scrubs, face masks, and lotions on her.

★ She hates being rough during sex. With all that pampering you require she feels as if you're easily breakable. She prefers soft sex where she treats you like the princess you are.

___________________________

AN: First post!! I hope you guys liked it and anon I hope I did justice to your ask. <3 Sorry for spell errors if any!

[l0stglitch]

A night at the boardwalk (part 2)

Platonic Yandere lost boys x reader

Notes- Tysm for all the support you guys have given me, it really means a lot. It’s nice to know that the lost boys fandom is still thriving, as this movie literally means the world to me ❤️

Warnings- Yandere behaviour | Controlling parenting | Borderline abuse | David and Marko are still assholes

Part 1

“I’m not gonna ask you again sweetheart. Who were you with at the boardwalk?”

You scowled at David, refusing to answer the question honestly.

“No one! How the fuck do you expect me to have any friends when you keep me locked up in this stupid cave all day!?”

Your father rolled his eyes, his patience already wearing thin. “We aren’t stupid, Y/n. You think we couldn’t hear you talking to someone?”

You broke away from his icy glare and chose instead to look at the floor. There was no convincing them that you had been alone- that much was certain. Paul was easy to lie to, but the others? You didn’t stand a chance against David, Dwayne and Marko.

“Cmon Y/n, you know we’re only worried about you. Just tell us who you were with and this doesn’t have to escalate.” You looked up at Dwayne. He was watching you with a sympathetic look on his face, his brown eyes staring deeply into yours.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied through gritted teeth.

“If you’re so innocent then why’s your heart beating so much?” Marko retorted, taking a threatening step closer.

You turned to him with a glare, “Oh I don’t know- maybe because I’m being accused of something I didn’t do!”

“We all know you were with someone, so why don’t you stop being such a brat and just fess up.”

You laughed disbelievingly, “I can’t fess up to something I didn’t do!”

“Except you did run off with someone- so therefore you can fess up.” David said, his tone unamused.

“I’m done with this fucking conversation!” You snapped, turning around and storming off.

Marko grabbed you by your wrist and yanked you back, his eyes dark.

“You don’t leave until we say you can.”

You tried to tug your wrist free, “Get off me.”

Your father smiled at you mockingly, “Make me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You threw a fist straight into his nose, the impact making a sickening crack.

Marko groaned and stumbled back, your wrist slipping out of his grip.

“You bitch!” He snarled, leaning onto Paul slightly for support.

In an instant, David was in front of you, grasping your shoulders with an uncomfortable amount of force. His blue eyes now shone yellow, and his lips were drawn back into a snarl, revealing a pair of wicked fangs.

You couldn’t help but shrink back in fear.

“You better learn your fucking place sweetheart. You’re at the bottom of the pack- you understand that?”

You nodded timidly, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“You don’t hit any of us.” He practically spat the words out at you.

“Sorry.” You croaked, trying to fight back the tears that were beginning to pool at the bottom of your vision.

He released your shoulders and practically shoved you backwards, “Go to your room.”

You turned around and sprinted out, finally allowing your tears to flow freely once you were sure you were out of their sights.

Through your wobbly vision you stumbled into your room and slammed the door behind you before throwing yourself onto the bed with a sob.

You lay there curled up for a while, hugging the bear Paul had won for you when you were little. You buried your face in the tattered fur and let it soak up the moisture of your tears.

Eventually, a gentle knock sounded on your door, followed by a creak as it opened.

You didn’t need to look up to know it was Dwayne. It was always him.

“Hey baby.” He murmured gently as he rounded your bed. You didn’t react, choosing to keep your face hidden and back turned away from him.

The bed dipped as your father sat down beside you. You felt a hand come to rest on your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

You flinched under him, and Dwayne instantly loosened his grip.

“Are you hurt?”

You sniffed in response, feeling another fresh wave of tears gathering at the question. Fuck, you hated being so sensitive.

“Hey, look at me baby. Did David hurt you?”

You rolled onto your back and looked at Dwayne tearfully. He regarded you with a concerned frown.

“You know he didn’t mean it. David just… forgets how fragile you are.”

Your father gently pulled the collar of your shirt, revealing a canvas of freshly bruised skin.

“He hurt me daddy.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

Dwayne felt his stomach twist with concern as he realised the extent of the damage David had caused. He gently pulled his hand away from your collarbone and tenderly wiped away your tears.

“You’ll be ok, babygirl. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do that again.”

You could feel your throat constricting painfully, making it hard to speak. “But you let him do it. You didn’t even try to stop him.”

Dwayne didn’t know what to say. There was no point in denying it, after all you were right. He hadn’t stopped Marko from antagonising you, and when David had gotten physical, he had just stood to the side and watched.

“I think Marko likes it when I’m in trouble,” You admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “He likes telling me off and shouting at me.”

Your father stared at you, caught off guard by your statement.

“And David… he gets angry a lot, but I don’t think he enjoys it as much as Marko does.” You knew you’d regret speaking your mind later on once you felt more emotionally stable, but at that moment you just craved comfort.

Dwayne shook his head pityingly, “That’s not true, baby. We love you more than you’ll ever know. We hate seeing you upset- so I don’t want you thinking that Marko enjoys arguing with you.”

You wanted to believe him, but it was hard when the earlier conflict kept playing in your head over and over like a broken record. The way Marko had grinned at you so condescendingly, soaking up your frustration, and how his eyes had gleamed challengingly even after you punched him. He had obviously been pissed off, but you couldn’t ignore the way he had instantly sprung out of Paul’s hold seconds after, eager for more. He wanted to see how far he could push you. How far he could stretch your limits before you snapped.

“Then why didn’t you help me?”

Dwayne sighed, “Y/n, this isn’t about picking sides. David asked you a simple question and you turned it into an argument. That had nothing to do with me.”

You sniffed, “Had nothing to do with Marko either.”

Your father glanced over at your door, making sure the others weren’t lingering outside. “I’ll have a word with Marko, but you need to accept that you aren’t innocent either. I know Paul was high, but that isn’t an excuse to lie to him and then run away with a bunch of strangers. You could’ve gotten yourself into serious danger, Y/n.”

“It was one person dad! And she’s my friend. She wouldn’t hurt me.”

“But someone else could. You think she’d be able to protect you from all the bad people around? You need us Y/n, not your friend.”

You sat up without a reply, fiddling with the teddy in your lap.

Dwayne shuffled closer to you and wrapped an arm round your shoulders. “How about we go outside so you can apologise for what happened.”

You shot him a pleading look, “Do I have to?”

He didn’t say anything, instead standing up and offering a hand.

You begrudgingly let him pull you to your feet and lead you back to the main part of the cave. You were acutely aware of how hot your face felt, still flushed and sticky from crying.

David didn’t need to look up from his Kerrang! magazine to know that you had returned. He could feel the accelerated beating of your heart through the air. Paul and Marko did too.

“So, you calmed down from your little tantrum?” He asked, finally glancing up at you with a quirked brow.

You had to force yourself not to storm back to your room at the comment, already feeling pissed off again. Dwayne squeezed your hand warningly, as if he could sense your irritation.

“Yeah, I guess I have.” You replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of your tone.

David watched you indifferently, “You come to stand here and stare at us or have you got something to say?”

You scratched at the back of your neck, a nervous twitch you’d picked up a long time ago. Your eyes flittered over to where Marko was sat. His arms were sprawled out across the back of the couch and his head was cocked to the side. He watched you with barely concealed interest, curious as to what you’d do next.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” You replied, forcing yourself to look back into David’s icy blue eyes.

He raised his brows patronisingly, “What’re you sorry for?”

You swallowed. “For running away at the boardwalk.”

Clearly that wasn’t all he wanted from you, as the look of expectancy on David’s face remained strong as ever.

“And for arguing about it.. and then punching Marko.” You glanced back over at Marko sheepishly, who still regarded you with those hungry eyes.

“You got anything you wanna say to Paul?” It took all your willpower not to yell at David in frustration. He was clearly dragging out this apology, and you had a slight suspicion that he was trying to bait you into getting yourself into more trouble.

You didn’t see the look Dwayne shot David. He knew exactly what the other man was doing, and unlike his blonde lover, Dwayne took little pleasure in disciplining you.

Paul didn’t seem particularly bothered by the whole situation either. You could see him lounging in an armchair, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Sorry for running away Papa.”

Your father exhaled a plume of smoke before standing up and tossing away the cigarette. You watched silently as he walked towards you in an unconcerned manner.

Paul squeezed your shoulder and gave you a lopsided grin. He was obviously still under the effects of the weed.

“I’m just glad you’re ok kid- I missed you.”

You blinked dumbly, unsure of what to say. Had it been just you and Paul, you would’ve gone along with what he was saying, but with David eyeing you from his wheelchair throne, it was difficult to twist your narrative into whatever Paul thought was going on.

“Well… it won’t happen again.” You replied uncertainly, letting him pull you into an affectionate hug.

He hummed contently before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I know. We’ll have to keep a better eye on you next time!”

You heard someone stand up from behind you but couldn’t decipher who, as Paul held you too close for you to be able to easily twist around.

The sound of footsteps informed you of the approaching figure, who you soon found out to be Marko, as he rested his hands on your waist and leaned closer to your ear to speak to you.

“Y’know Paul may be high as fuck, but he’s not wrong about keeping an eye on you, pumpkin.”

You shivered at the warning, hearing Marko chuckle as he backed away, giving you enough space to finally free yourself from Paul’s grasp.

“It’s morning soon right? I think I’m gonna go to sleep.” You said as you turned around, eager to have some time to yourself.

As you started to make your way to your room, David’s voice made you stop. “Not by yourself you’re not.”

You frowned, “What’re you talking about?”

Marko smirked, “It’s just a precaution. Y’know, so you don’t try running away again.”

You paused for a moment, trying to understand what they meant, until suddenly it clicked. “I don’t need you to watch me during the day! When have I ever ran out of the cave? Where would I even go? It’s not like I know how to drive your bikes!”

David just shrugged, “We let you get away with one thing and then you start to test the boundaries. It’s not forever- only until we can trust you again.”

You stared at him incredulously, but didn’t argue back. “Fine. Who am I gonna be stuck with now then?”

“I can watch her,” Dwayne offered, ignoring Paul and Marko’s protests. He knew that out of the four of them he’d be the best at keeping you placated, and after your earlier conversation, you’d probably be more at ease with him.

David’s face remained neutral, “Fine by me.”

You simply scowled at him before promptly turning around and storming back to your room with Dwayne in tow.

It didn’t take long to reach your bedroom door with the pace you were walking at. You were tempted to slam the door in Dwayne’s face when you walked in, but decided it wouldn’t be worth pissing off the only person who wasn’t entirely mad at you.

With a frustrated groan, you threw yourself onto the bed for the second time since returning home. Dwayne just sighed.

You looked up and glared at him, “What?”

Your father sat down on your worn couch and watched you thoughtfully. “Things would be so much easier if you just stopped arguing with us all the time.”

“Maybe I would if you didn’t set such stupid rules,” you shot back.

“You know we only do it because we love you.”

“Well you guys have a funny way of showing it.” You huffed in response, rolling onto your side so that he wouldn’t be able to see your face.

“You’re still young, Y/n. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“That’s what you always say.” You mumbled, pulling your teddy close to your chest.

“Well it’s true.”

You didn’t reply. It was pointless trying to argue with him, and you were beginning to feel tired.

Dwayne noticed your fatigue, and jumped at the opportunity to change the subject.

“You gonna shuffle up or am I gonna have to sleep on the couch?”

You twisted to look over your shoulder, and saw how pathetic he looked sat over there by himself. The couch was nowhere near big enough to fit his tall frame, nor was it particularly comfortable either.

Still choosing not to speak, you rolled over to make space for Dwayne. He got up with a small smile and shrugged off his leather jacket before coming over and climbing into your bed.

You both lay there in silence for a while, lost in the comforting darkness of the room. The shapes of your furniture became hazy blurs in the dim light of the few candles you’d lit earlier.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

You frowned and glanced over at Dwayne, “Huh?”

“We do love you. I know sometimes you have your episodes and you convince yourself that we all hate you, but there’s nothing you could do that would make any of us feel that way.”

You hated that he called it that. You weren’t having an ‘episode’. Any normal person would’ve reacted the same way. Still, you knew that arguing about his terminology would get you nowhere, so you chose to ignore it.

“I just don’t understand why you guys adopted me if all you’re going to do is scream at me.”

Dwayne looked at you sadly, “Oh baby. I’m sorry you’re upset, but you know why we took you in. You were being raised by monsters. Humans are naturally cruel and your family was no different. They were abusing you- our hearts broke every time we’d see you come crying to us covered in bruises.”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. They’d told you this story countless times. How they had met you when you were little and saved you from a life of abuse and neglect. You’d been taught about the cruel nature of humanity, and how that justified the many lives your fathers had taken.

Of course, if you followed that logic then technically you were a bad person as well, but of course, according to them, you were special. Different from the rest of mankind.

“You promise David won’t hurt me again?”

“I swear, Y/n. He won’t lay a finger on you.”

The room fell silent again, until Dwayne beckoned for you to come closer.

“Come here.”

You scooted over to him, allowing your father to wrap an arm around your shoulders. You curled up against his bare torso, finding comfort in his presence.

“Go to sleep now, angel. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

You hummed in reply and closed your eyes, finally falling asleep as you felt his fingers gently massage the back of your neck.

Tag list- @bella-goths-wife @purple-lemon-8 @xjesterxjacksx @ursinaw @simplyreading96 @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic

Sorry this took so long to write! Please excuse any bad grammar/spelling as I proofread this late at night so it might not be perfect. I also wrote this over multiple weeks so the characters might not be completely consistent 😅

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about the very early stages of your relationship with old man Price, where everything is so new to you and insecurities start eating away at you especially when you hear 141 make an off hand comment about how Price has slept with practically half the soldiers on base, including Nik who seems to have a good reputation going around because of his skills and size.

You think about it so much to the point where you’re unable to get intimate with the man. You hadn’t even gone as far at to have sex, had only stuck to blowjobs and handjobs because Price knew this was your first time doing anything at all with a man and he wanted to go at your pace but now you’re unable to even give him a peck on the lips without thinking about what a lackluster experience it must be for him.

At first you enjoyed letting him have all your firsts- letting him lead each and every kiss, letting experienced hands take you apart in a matter of minutes, following his words like the gospel as you took his cock in your mouth or letting him guide your shaky hand as he showed you how to touch him but now all you can think about is how you’re unable to make him cum.

Price tried to explain his body isn’t what it once had been and he may not be able to get hard like before but he still enjoyed the warmth of your mouth, the way your lips lay stretched taut around his cock, the way you’d looked up at him beneath tears soaked lashes gauging his every reaction, and most importantly he still liked to see how good you tried to make him feel.

You just couldn’t get over it. It’d be on your mind when you had him soft in your mouth. It’d be on your mind when tears would trickle down your cheeks because he was just too goddamn big for someone so inexperienced. It’d be on your mind whenever you’d think about your first time- would it be anything like all the men he’s been with- or would you disappoint and with that also ruin a potential future together.

Price wasn’t stupid he quickly noticed your change in behavior. It didn’t take much to see how you’d pull away whenever he’d try to deepen a kiss or how you’d make up some excuse before he could drop to his knees. At first he thought he’d been too eager- too intense so he dialed it back. After all this was the first time ever you’d been with a man.

However Price couldn’t help but feel that there was more to it than him acting like a love struck teenager.

Eventually Price confronts you about it- all while in the middle of a hot and heavy make out, with his hand down your pants, as you’re begging and pleading for him to suck you off.



But Price refuses, won’t do anything till you tell him what’s wrong stands firm on the matter like his palm firmly stays pressed up against your cock, unmoving until you tell him what’s been heavy on your heart.

For a moment you wonder if you should just walk away from him, jerk off in the shower and call it a night- anything to save the little bit of pride you got left inside of you.

But you hadn’t had his mouth or hands on you in weeks- the mission he’d been sent out keeping him busy- with only racy pics being sent your way to satisfy your needs.

At first they had helped but eventually you had grown tired of fucking into your hand.

So swallowing down the last bit of pride you decide to fess up. and you’re stumbling over your words- hands flailing in the air as you try to explain yourself- his hand leaving your pants as you proceed to pace around the room you’re in - the soldiers- Nik- your relationship with the older man- the hand jobs and blowjobs that pale in comparison to everything he’s done before he met you- and when you finally halt yourself- chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, and throat slightly tingling from the strain, you finally meet his gaze only to see he looks baffled as ever, wide eyed and mouth agape.

It’s rare to see him like this- the ever so composed man finally looks at loss for words and if this had been any other situation maybe you would had revealed in the fact that you managed to get this reaction.

But now you stand there with pulse roaring in your ears hands shaking, waiting for him to put the nail to the coffin that is your and his relationship- he will soon turn on his heel and chase down Nik to relive the good times and leave you in the dust.

However instead of running away, he’s coming closer, til both of you are falling back onto the mattress, strong legs falling to each side of your waist and caging you to the bed as a hand falls to the side of your head.

“What are you doing?” You say, looking as baffled as he’d been a moment ago, although you’re not opposed to being this close. You’ve always loved how well your bodies fit together like a puzzle piece coming together.

“Going to teach you how to fuck this old man,” he says, lips curling up into a smile as he leans in closer to you.

[scribblecon]

the fort max fic was so cute!! 😭😭 I’d definitely love to see a part 2 (maybe where he and the reader get some time to interact with each other one-on-one? perhaps max finally gets a chance to pet them) if you’re up for it c:

How can I refuse? I love the big guy so much 😭

A Minor Fascination Part 2

SFW, fluff, GN reader

—

Fort Max suppresses a groan. He can see you staring at him and the perplexed look on your tiny face is, frankly, adorable. The urge to cross the room and squish your cheeks is real, but he resists. He looks away. He will not make a fool of himself again.

It feels like there’s some kind of role reversal going on. Up until a few days ago, Fortress Maximus was staring at you whenever you were in the same room as him. Now, ever since his stilted greeting and abrupt exit, you’re the one staring at him. The way he tries to subtly turn away from you whenever he catches your eye makes you think he’s too embarrassed to speak with you again. Not that you can blame him, but the other bots have been teasing you and it’s getting on your nerves. If he has a problem with you, best resolve it sooner rather than later. When Max makes his way to the bar’s exit, you’re ready and waiting.

“Fortress Maximus!” You call out to him as he walks past your table. He turns, frowning, until he realises it’s you and you swear his optics widen just a little bit. “Could you give me a ride? My hab’s a bit far to walk by myself.” You give him a grin that you hope comes across as sheepish, definitely not singling him out on purpose.

He stares down at you hesitantly, then looks to the ‘bots sharing your table. Surely one of them could- slag. Chromedome, Rewind and Tailgate. Three of the biggest lightweights on the ship and none of them look fit to drive right now. He sighs in resignation and holds a servo out for you, which you gladly clamber onto with thanks. Fort Max does his best not to react to the sensation of your tiny frame in his palm. How are you so small? So soft? Slowly, he lifts you until you’re cupped against his chest, making absolutely certain you’re secure, before he starts walking.

The two of you traverse the Lost Light in silence for several minutes, you enjoy the view peeking over Max’s hand from where he’s holding you, definitely higher up than any shoulder perch you’ve experienced with other ‘bots so far, and making the most of being surrounded by the heat radiating off his frame. Maximus, meanwhile, is trying to focus on finding your habitation suite, but is preoccupied with anxiety. Doesn’t want to drop you by accident. It is only when you reach an empty stretch of hallway that you speak up.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until we get to your quarters?” Max keeps looking ahead. He knows where this is going.

“No, because I think you’ll drop me off and then immediately leave.” You look up at him, trying to make eye contact. Even when held against his chest, his face seems miles away. God he is massive. “I want to know why you’ve been acting so weird around me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been staring at me practically non-stop for two weeks. Also, that introduction of yours the other day…”

Fortress Maximus stops walking, opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. Frag. The botched interaction was one thing, but he really thought he was being subtle before that.

“I promise I will explain. When we get to your room. I can’t-” His voice drops to a near whisper. “I can’t talk about it out here.”

“Okay…” Eyeing him sceptically, you sit down in his servo and lean against his chest. “Let me know when you get there.”

—

“This is your hab suite, correct?”

You look over Fort Max’s giant hand to see a number and a door. Giving the affirmative, the two of you enter your room and he gently deposits you on the desk. You waste no time in looking for answers.

“Time to ‘fess up. What’s going on with you?”

Watching him deliberate on how to answer, shifting his weight slightly, you can’t help finding his awkwardness around you slightly charming.

“Your hair.”

“Pardon?”

“I… wanted to touch your hair. But I didn’t want to accidentally hurt you.” Fort Max looks away from you to his servos. “You look so soft but you’re just so… tiny.”

That’s… kind of sweet of him, actually. Even if he did just admit he wants to pet you like a dog. You give him a sympathetic look.

“I appreciate the restraint, but you could have just asked.”

Max looks back to you. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Only if we redo our introductions. You ran off before I could tell you my name the other day.”

“Yeah,” He allows a small smile to cross his face. “Okay.” The smile falls when he hears you stifle a laugh.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just— that’s what you said last time, too.” You take a moment to compose yourself, then stick out a hand. “Let’s start over. I’m Y/N. Pleased to meet you.”

“My name is Fortress Maximus.” He reaches a digit out to meet your hand. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Okay, now that’s out the way…” You crouch down next to Max’s outstretched digit. “Stay still.”

“What are you do- oh.” Fort Max vents as you lean your head against his finger. It’s even softer than he imagined. He closes his optics, focussing on the sensation. Can feel some of the anxiety that has been gnawing at his spark since First Aid jump started him fade.

You admittedly feel a bit silly, rubbing the side of your head against a giant robot finger like a cat marking its scent on something. But said robot doesn’t want to hurt you and there is a real risk of him doing exactly that if he isn’t careful. He’s certainly more self aware of that risk than other ‘bots you can think of. So this is the workaround for now.

“You know, if you want to hold me or feel my hair again.” You stop moving, and place your hands atop Max’s digit, looking up at him. “You can let me know. I’m cool with it.”

Fortress Maximus opens his optics and looks down at you. How are you so kind to a mech like him?

“I think… I would like to hold you again.”

You smile up at him, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, okay.”

He sighs, the corners of his lips twitching as you collapse into giggles and he scoops you into his servos as gently as he can. You’re lucky you’re so cute.

—

previous

[lurkingshan]

I really like the way they managed this turn for Heesu. He’s been stuck in his fixation on Chanyoung for so long that he didn’t even realize it when his feelings started to change. He needed something to happen to force him to let go of that so that his mind could clear enough to notice Seungwon standing right next to him. Him realizing that he’s actually happy that Chanyoung is happy and that he already has feelings for someone else was such a lovely, low drama way to resolve his unrequited love.

And with this turn, all the remaining barriers to Heesu and Seungwon getting together are Seungwon’s fault. His steadfast refusal to tell Heesu the truth—any part of the truth—is messing with everyone’s relationships. I know he’s scared, but we are far past the point where he should have fessed up. Jiyu is an unbelievably loyal friend for letting this go on as long as it has, and she’s taking a lot of undeserved shit from Heesu because Seungwon won’t make himself clear. If he doesn’t confess in tomorrow’s episode I’m reaching into the screen, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him until the truth comes out.

[whoopsyeahokay]

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating (not on you). egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - H

H is for hot, hypnotizing touches and hard kisses at a party Wally should be focused on hosting. But how can he think when you swan in wearing that fucking dress, hair styled just right for him to fist into when he has you on your knees. Janet commanded that he not invite you, gave him a look and a threat, and he didn't listen because fuck her, it's his house, his party, and he'll invite whoever he wants to.

Your friends surround you like the Secret Service, Xavier and Maddie and Simon watchful and out of place amongst the hypersexual pop squad and their clingers-on. It's a smaller party, harder to get away with what Wally wants to do (that being tying you to his bed and wrecking you over and over again until sunup), but he steals moments here and there to make you aware of how fucking horny he is for you.

Halfway through the night, Janet's hammered to the degree she doesn't give a shit that you're there anymore, her arm around your shoulders, convinced she's the best thing to ever happen to you because she rescued you from social squalor. Now everyone who matters knows who you are, she beams, hugging you like a sister, thanks to me. Wally helps you help her up the stairs to his old room—the struggle real—Janet handsy in a way she never gets without her audience to perform for.

She grabs and gropes and pouts for Wally to cuddle, to kiss her, to touch her how she knows he fantasizes about touching you. And it's the closest you and he have come to being caught on Candid Camera, holy hell, but she passes out before he's forced to fess up.

Once he closes the door behind him, he hunts you down, finds you in the bathroom down the hall trying to dab out the Sour Puss and Blue Curaçao Janet spilled (accidentally-on-purpose) on your dress.

"Just take it off," Wally smirks, arms folded, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, "We both know it's gonna end up on my floor anyway."

"Yeah? You're right." Your reflection flashes him a coy look. Slowly, you turn, prop against the sink, eyes heated, "No harm in giving everyone a show, right?" Your dress pools at your feet when you slip it off, leaving you in dark green satin that Wally's cock highly appreciates.

He kicks the door closed with his heel, on you in two long strides, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back so you have to look at him. "Naughty girl," He grips your ass with his other hand, "You know that's not what I meant." A bite to your neck, a lap of his tongue to soothe the sting, "No one else gets this, baby. You're all. mine."

Wally hoists you onto the sink, insinuates himself between your thighs as soon as he shoves his jeans to his knees. He humps himself against the imprint of your pussy through the satin, his brain fogging from the friction. Your eyes are hazy, lips parted on sweet sighs of need that he hastily swallows. The music downstairs might be loud, but eventually, someone's going to come looking and he can't have them hear you. Those sounds are as much his as the rest of you.

In less time than it took to put Janet to bed, Wally has you on his cock, bouncing like a beauty queen in his lap as he sits on his haunches, one arm behind him to hold himself up, the other tight around your waist. Fuck, he's never felt this hopeless for someone. This hungry and desperate and obsessed. His hips buck in tandem with yours, driving himself as deep as he can get, wanting every inch of you to be his, his, his, "That's it baby, ride daddy's cock just like that, fuck—"

When you and he rejoin the party, he's dressed you in one of his button-downs, belted around the waist with the tie he wore to his cousin's wedding. His scent all over you, his come inside you, and nobody notices a thing thanks to too many shots of Hennessey.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

alphabetical navigation:

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

linear navigation:

B T K A F P V R M S D C I J H W N O E X G L Y U Q Z

[tachiharastanacc]

Tachihara gift exchange headcanons

Port Mafia-

Mori (and Elise):

-Tachihara probably gets him a nice pen or something

-Elise gets a coloring book and a set of colored pencils and she thinks it’s way cooler than Mori’s stupid lame pen (he also gets roped into letting her put bows in his hair. Again)

- Mori gives him like a bonus or something idk I really don’t like when they interact

- Elise draws him a picture of him and Hirtosu and gin

Kouyou:

- they’re not close so he wasn’t expecting anything, but Kouyou makes little gifts for everyone every year and he didn’t have anything to give back so he made a little flower out of metal for her

Chuuya:

- wanted to get him wine but doesn’t actually know anything about alcohol. Refused to ask Hirotsu, but he ended up getting carded and having to ask anyway

- ended up with some vintage wine that chuuya had mentioned to Hirotsu from both of them

- I feel like chuuya didn’t super know what to get him so he invited him out to go drinking and hang out instead

Verlaine:

- doesn’t know him. Didn’t interact at all. A single cupcake appears on his counter one day with a note just signed ‘~v’

Akutagawa:

- Tachihara got (read: spent way to long figuring out how to make) a dessert with figs for him

- Akutagawa got him a vase of hyacinths since gin mentioned that they were his favorites

Higuchi:

- tachi got her a basket of chocolate and a bunch of rom coms and agrees to suffer through watching them with her

- Higuchi knits him a scarf and it’s kind of janky but it’s addressed to her favorite little brother and he never takes it off ever

Hirotsu:

- Tachihara and gin get him a really nice lighter that’s engraved

- Hirotsu gets Tachihara a new coat (except he low key just drags him shopping because he goes on about how important it is for him to keep warm (cuz y’know coats are important in bsd)

Gin:

- gets him the set of pencils he’s been eying every time they walk by. And a box of bandaids

- he makes them a tiny knife they can slip under a dress for missions

Q:

- most people forgot about them but he ventured down to the basement with some sweets and his old fnaf books because you can rip fnaf kid Q from my cold dead hands

- Q gives him a really ugly mug they painted with the kit chuuya gave them. It’s definitely not food safe, but he keeps pencils in it

Kajii:

- Tachihara very distantly slides him a card with a gift card for a hardware store

- Kajii gives him a gun that allegedly shoots lemon bombs except it’s bright yellow and Tachihara doesn’t know what to do with it

Hunting Dogs-

Fukuchi:

- tachi stresses over what to get him until jouno smacks him and says the captain just enjoys spending time with them (this is canon btw, he says one of his happiest memories is when all 5 of them were together)

- Fukuchi also stresses over what to get tachi bc he feels like it should be practical but doesn’t know what he’d want and low key does he even deserve to give him a gift

- Tecchou tells him Tachihara is also worried and wants to impress him

- Fukuchi takes Tachihara out to do some father-son activities and they both have a good time

Teruko:

- most of Tachihara’s budget goes to getting things for teruko (she gave the hunting dogs a Christmas list in the group chat)

- it ends up being a lot of stuffed animals and weapons from all of them

- plus a coupon for a free piggy back ride

- teruko bitches to the others because Tachihara never actually asks for anything

- she ends up getting him a new holster and tools for cleaning his guns because it’s all he fessed up to wanting (he’s very happy with it, even if teruko calls him boring)

Jouno:

- Tachihara gets him a couple records (I feel like Jouno owns a record player, sue me)

- Jouno gets him a set of ceramic dish ware because he complains Tachihara has a bunch of cheap stuff like some college freshman (to which Tachihara points out that he’s a 19 yr old middle school dropout)

- the stuffed animal Tachihara originally refused also shows up on his bed and he keeps it this time

Tecchou:

- Tecchou gets Tachihara a new sword because the grip on his was getting worn down and trains with him

- Tachihara gets Tecchou a new yoga mat and set of weights

Bonus-

- ango and Tachihara exchange respectful Christmas cards

- Yosano gets a dead fish wrapped in newspaper on her doorstep, but it’s preserved in the snow and she assumes that it was from Kenji and takes it as a gift

- a bouquet of purple flowers is laid on a lone grave. The cold wind blows, and it almost feels like someone ruffling his hair

[stellar-collective]

Phoenix gets sick and has to be alone with their thoughts. So- where did they get red string? Why is there a whiteboard? What is going on? What is fnaf? What does the constitution have to do with robots?

no no no Reggie you don’t GET IT, it’s GHOSTS, okay? two weeks ago Right Robot totally stole my lunch in order to feed that stray cat he’s in love with but absolutely refuses to fess up, so obviously i was thinking i’d frame him for a crime, take him to court, and force him to admit it under threat of perjury, but then again, he’s a robot so is he even beholden to human laws? does the constitution even apply here? he seems to be sentient, right, because of the kinesium, and that’s when i REALIZED. it’s like five nights at freddy’s, Reggie, the kinesium is GHOSTS. i mean, like, attracts them! sticks them to things! but without the murder! no, because— no, stop laughing, think about it! telekinesis is all the dead agents moving stuff around for me! and now at least one is possessing RiRo, i don’t know if it’s a Golden Freddy situation, or— a-and anyway, if i were a supreme judge i’d definitely rule that ghosts inhabiting mortal shells have the constitutional right to a fair trial, therefore— what? go to bed? why?