#he’s doing his belt buckle in the second pic but I’m not sure how clear that is

[fatrickgrimes]

Damn Rick you should probably lose some weight or zombies are gonna catch you

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Baby, It’s Cold...

Warnings: this fic includes dubious/nonconsent, fingering, lying, manipulation, and general Ransom naughtiness

This is explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You go to meet your online admirer but not all is as it seems.

Note: Our Chris-mas fic is here! I tried to keep the holiday details as vague as possible and hope you all enjoy what I came up with. As a reminder, y’all chose Ransom Drysdale + Sugar Daddy + Silverfox (= yes please)

I hope y’all enjoy!

Let me know what you think! (Like, reblog, reply, leave some words, a gif, nonsensical emojis)

Your nerves wouldn't stop. It was the tap of your fingers, the urge to chew your thumb, and the way you shifted in your seat just when you got settled. The flight was long enough to calm down and definitely not long enough to prepare yourself. 

You scrolled through your phone, offline for the journey. You swiped through the photos saved in your gallery. Hugh had paid for the ticket. A gift for the holidays he said; his gift, he added, was you. It was cheesy but it made you smile. He always had a way of surprising you. One moment, he was stern and demanding, the next he was flirty and fun, and sometimes, he could be sappy. He was different than any man you’d met; well you hadn’t exactly met yet.

It had started on your Insta. You liked to post pictures of pretty things; flowers, birds, critters, and the odd monument. Sometimes, even, yourself. He messaged you about some photo of a vintage book. It was random and awkward. You weren’t quite sure how you managed to bring the quality to text but you did always find a way.

But it continued and you got to know him. He knew a lot about books; he said he worked in publishing. As a photography student, you weren’t as impressive. You assumed he was older; a few years, he said. Well, that wasn’t so bad. He also suggested you keep some prints; it could make for a good coffee table book. You liked hat he humoured you but you were like any other arts major; you were waiting for your green apron.

As they announced the landing over the speaker, you buckled in. You played with the locked buckle. You had lied to your mother. You told her you were staying on campus for the winter break. What would do if she knew if you were meeting a stranger? Huh, you were meeting a stranger and you had kept it all a secret. Your romcom had just become a horror in your mind.

Well, you had the app on the phone. The one that would send your location if you didn’t log in within the next eight hours. But it could be too late by then. Shit, this was stupid. So stupid. You could hide and tell him you missed your flight. Well, fuck, you’d texted him just before boarding.

As the plane descended you went through every worst case scenario; catfish, liar, murderer… Hugh was hot as fuck and you had to admit, a rich guy with eyes like his, was way out of your league. You bit your lip as you looked at the pic of him at the beach; was it the abs that made you so dumb or the smirk?

The large wheels rolled over the tarmac as the pilot steered past the other planes and into position. You waited as disembarkment began and the attendants reminded passengers to remain seated until told otherwise. You felt the wine in your stomach swish. Hugh had paid for first class; you had enjoyed the complimentary drinks a little too much. The first had been for courage, the second for foolishness.

Finally, it was time to get up. Time to face your naivety. Why did these things seem like a good idea until the last minute? Rather, why did you think they were? This was like that blind date in your freshman year that turned out to be a prank by your roommates. Sophomore year saw you relocated.

What if the same was going through Hugh’s head? What if he was disappointed? It was easy to seem cooler than you were behind a screen. It wasn’t exactly like you broadcasted the fact that you spent all your time in the library or the fact that your study group was the majority of your socialization. Well, maybe you’d both be let down and you could laugh about it together.

You grabbed your carry-on and followed the rest of the passengers down the ramp and into the tunnel. You felt like you were in a movie or a dream. It was surreal. Had you really flown all this way to meet this online pal? 

As you reached the escalators, you turned your phone off of airplane mode. There was a message waiting for you. ‘At the gate.’ It was all too real as you sent back an emoji and neared the belt to grab your bag. You extended the arm and rolled it behind you as you headed for the last barrier. You were waved through customs and met another set of escalators. You bounced your leg as you descended.

You got to the bottom and walked around as you searched those waiting around the gate. Blonde hair, you couldn’t miss it. Blue eyes, tall, broad shoulders… he was the type to stand out in the crowd. 

“Hey,” you felt a large hand on your back and another on the handle of your bag. “Right here.”

The deep voice was the same from your phone calls. You smiled and looked over as he took your bag entirely and wrapped his arm around you.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” You turned to him and his hand rested on your hip as he faced you.

The air went out of you and your lips parted. You blinked and sputtered. “H- Hi.” 

“You okay? How was the flight?” He asked.

You were in shock. Your entire body jittered and your breath was trapped in your chest. It was Hugh but he was about twenty years older than his photos. Most of his hair was silver, with only a few strands of blonde, and though he hadn’t aged poorly, the difference was stark. Handsome as he still was, he had lied.

“It was… fine.” You forced out. “I…” You shook your head and pouted as your thoughts raced, “Hugh, you’re… older than I expected.”

“Call me Ransom. Everybody does.” He leaned it, “Why don’t we talk about this in the car?”

You looked around. You couldn’t really just turn around and go home, could you? You lowered your chin and sucked in your lip as you thought. What else had he lied about?

“Sure,” you said thinly. “I…”

“Babe, it’s me,” he coaxed, “I’m exactly who I said I was. And you, you’re even more gorgeous in person.”

You glanced at him and nodded. You hooked your shoulder bag over your arm and he grabbed your hand as he pulled you with him. The wheels of your suitcase rolled loudly behind him as the buzz of the crowd drowned out your panicked mind. You let him guide you, in disbelief. You didn’t know what else to do.

You were outside as the haze cleared. You approached a car, sleek and sporty, though you were never good with types. Hugh, or Ransom, opened the trunk and dropped your bag inside. He went to the driver’s side and opened the door as you stared across at him. You mirrored him and lowered yourself into the passenger’s seat. The doors closed almost in unison and you stared through the windshield at the unfamiliar parking lot.

He cleared his throat and turned the engine. You snapped your belt into place as he shifted into gear. You flinched and crossed your arms. You peeked at him in the rearview and his hand crawled onto your thigh. His eyes met yours in the mirror and he smirked. You were paralysed as he steered with one hand and his fingers tapped against your jeans.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he said, “Or… happy holidays. Whatever’s politically correct.”

He laughed and you only managed to choke on your spit. You felt like you should be mad but did you have any right to be? He hadn’t exactly catfished you. Not completely. And he had paid for your ticket and from what you could tell, he was just as rich as he claimed. Yet, that wasn’t exactly why you’d come. Sure, it was all just in good fun, you didn’t expect a whirlwind romance, but it was still jarring.

“Why don’t you just relax?” he purred, “I know it wasn’t too long a flight but flying always takes it outta me. And you’ll need your energy. I have lots of surprises in store for you.”

You nodded and leaned against the door. You hugged yourself and lifted your leg over the other and Ransom’s hand slipped away. He seemed unbothered as he sat back in his seat and turned his attention to the road.

The radio flicked on and filled the tense silence. You clung to the unknown lyrics to keep from drowning in fear.

🎁

Despite your doubts, you couldn’t help but be astounded by Ransom’s house. Almost four years in a dormitory and the Holiday Inn was like a palace to you, but his place was even more than that. A modern façade with a blanket of store across the sprawling yards which seemed to have been perfectly laid to match the straight lines of the structure. 

You stayed in the car as Ransom climbed out and took your bag from the trunk. You jumped in your seat as he tapped on the window with his knuckle. You looked over at him and undid your belt. You got out, your bag dangling from your wrist, and he touched the small of your back again as he led you forward.

“We’ll have dinner and then you can open your gifts,” he said, “That’s when the fun will start.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed as he unlocked the door with a code and ushered you in.

You watched him hang his jacket and reluctantly unzipped your own. You put your bag down but kept a hold of your phone.

“You’re nervous,” he intoned.

“Why did you send me those pics and not something more recent? You lied.” You said.

His mouth slanted and he raised his brows. “They were me. Not much of a lie.”

“Enough of one, don’t you think?”

He chuckled. “I think you at least owe me a little leeway. Considering.”

“Considering what? You offered to pay. Don’t hold that over me.”

“I’m not but… you’re young, you’re impulsive. I mean, you came all the way here and now what? You’re going to tuck tail and run home? Spend the last of that bursary money so you can hide?”

“Don’t patronize me,” you huffed as you stepped out of your boots.

“I’m not.” He said firmly. “I’m giving you advice and it’s hard to see when you’re young but we both know you’re smarter than your age. We both know what this is and me being older isn’t going to affect that.” His eyes roved over you, “Is it?”

You lowered your lashes and thought. You wetted your lips and looked down at your phone. You unlocked it and opened the app. You keyed in your password and turned off the alert. You’d come this far and you were fairly certain he wouldn’t murder you. Besides, your mother would kill you once she found out you’d come all this way.

“It’s just gonna take me a bit to get used to it,” you tucked your phone away, “But promise me, that’s it. The only lie.”

“Promise,” he said gently, “Now, dinner should be here soon so why don’t you get changed.”

“Changed?” You snorted, “What--”

“Up the stairs, the room at the end of the hall, there’s a red box on the bed. It should fit. If it doesn’t, I’m sure it’ll still look great on you.”

You smiled as your cheeks burned. He was older but he still had charm and had aged into his looks and not out of them. 

“Alright,” you said, “I… what’s for dinner?”

“Another surprise,” he replied as he neared and leaned in, “I’m more excited about dessert.” His breath tickled your cheek, his lips too, and you shivered. “Now go, we’ve both waited long enough for this.”

You drew away and turned to head up the stairs. He tapped your ass and you squeaked. You looked back over his shoulder and he winked. “Can’t help myself,” he raised his hands, “But I’ll try.”

You continued up the stairs and tried not to gape at what had to be expensive art. The furniture was no less extravagant and as you entered the room at the end of the hall, you closed the door and pulled out your phone. You typed in Ransom instead of Hugh Drysdale and pages of results popped up. Editor, Publisher, and Owner of Blood Like Wine Publishing. Jesus Christ, were you really that daft?

Well, he was famous enough to reassure you he wasn’t going to kill you. You tossed your phone on the bed beside the box and carefully untied the black ribbon around it. You shimmied the lid off and revealed the red velvet. You lifted it up, a short little piece trimmed with white fur. It was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever seen but scandalous nevertheless.

You stripped as your nerves only got worse. You slipped into the dress, it was tight around your chest and the short skirt had a slit along the thigh. You wanted to laugh at yourself. There was a pair of heels at the foot of the bed and you sat to slip on the stilettos. You stood and wobbled. You felt so dumb but a glance in the mirrored door of the closet gave you pause. Not bad.

You slowly made your way down the stairs. You held tight to the railing and as you came to the bottom, you looked around at the airy halls. You wandered into the next room and back to the kitchen. You stopped in the doorway as Ransom looked up from the counter. He carefully plated the food from the containers surrounded by paper bags. Expensive, boujie take out.

“The other way,” he smiled, “Past the stairs. I’ll be in shortly.”

“Oh, okay,” you spun and caught yourself on the wall. 

You found your way to the room across the hall. There was an artificial fireplace in the wall burning and a low table with two cushions planted deliberately on the floor. There was a bucket with ice and champagne in it and two glasses waiting. You crossed to it and touched the petals of the stemmed roses in the tall crystal vase.

You turned as you heard footsteps. Ransom entered with two plates. He passed you and set them down on the low table. He spun back to you and took in every inch of you. “Wow, you look… great.”

“Thank you,” you shied away and he caught your hands. He pulled you close as the candlelight gleamed along his silver hair.

“Come here,” his hand grazed your arm and he caught your chin, “Amazing.”

He brushed his lips against yours and pressed them more firmly. You let him as you heart hammered and he pulled away as he nibbled your bottom lip.

“Let’s eat,” he breathed. “Before it gets cold.”

You followed him to the table and sat on the cushion. It was difficult as your skirt rode up and you bent your legs beside you awkwardly as Ransom popped the cork. He poured the wine and you sipped at the foam. You could still feel the glow of the grigio you’d downed on the plane.

“So, did you bring your camera? Tomorrow we might go out and you can get some photos. It’s beautiful in the winter. Cold but makes warming up all the better.”

“Yeah…” You took a bite of the salad. “So, why didn’t you tell me who you were? If your age doesn’t matter, then--”

“You didn’t ask me for money. Not even when I mentioned it. Most women, I tell them who I am, they google me, and they do a poor job of tiptoeing around my checkbook.” He shrugged. “And I like you. I wanted to get to know you without everything else.”

“Get to know me?” You scoffed. “That’s what you call it?”

“My intentions were innocent. At first. I thought your pictures might make a good book and then I found one of you. Business isn’t everything.”

“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes, “It’s not?”

His hand snaked over to your thigh and he squeezed. He played with the fur along your skirt.

“I have enough money.” He said, “What I want isn’t so simple.”

🎁

You finished dinner and washed it down with the champagne as Ransom cleared the plates. As came back, you sat on your knees and watched him cross the room. There was a table stacked with presents in the corner. You only just noticed it as he looked it over and picked out one wrapped in gold paper.

He neared and held it out to you. You took it and ran your finger over the edge. “Your gift is in my bag,” you tried to stand and he waved you off.

“Later,” he said, “Open it.”

You slid your finger under a fold and tore. You slowly unwrapped the box; black and shiny. You crumpled the paper and dropped it on the table. You wiggled the lid off a revealed a pair of black furry cuffs. You giggled.

“Thanks,” you looked up at him.

“Stand up,” he said.

“W-Why?” You tilted your head.

“You gotta try them on,” he grinned, “Come on. Just a little bit of fun.”

“I don’t know, I never--”

“I know you didn’t come here just for steak so come on, get up.” He demanded, “And turn around.”

You bit down as you stared up at him. You wanted to laugh but the lines in his forehead warned you he was serious. He bent and took the cuffs from you and set the box aside. You stood, numb and shaky. You didn’t believe it. He wasn’t going to--

He spun you around and swept your arms behind you. You tried to pull away as he caught your left wrist in a cuff and quickly hooked the other. They closed tight around your wrists and he tugged on the link as if to test them.

You stared at the artificial flames licking at the glass. He cupped your ass and dragged his hands around to grip your hips.

“They look nice,” he purred, “Oh, baby.”

He bent and nuzzled your neck as he brought his arms around you and kneaded your tits. He pushed them up as he nibbled at your skin.

“These… are perfect,” he kissed you and teased your flesh with his teeth. “Fuck.”

He pulled down the top of your dress and bared your chest. You wriggled and he hugged your waist he kept you close.

“What are you doing, baby? Where are you going to go?” He tweaked your nipple, “Dressed like a little slut.”

“Hey,” you gasped and he retracted his hand to smack your ass.

He hushed you as his fingers crept down your thigh and he rolled up your skirt an inch at a time. “What are these?” He snapped your panties, “You don’t need those.” He pulled them below your ass and they fell to your ankles. “Let me show you what an old man does better than any kid.”

He reached around you and tickled your pelvis. He raised his head and inhaled the scent of your scalp as his hot breath glossed over your head.

“Don’t be shy now… or would you feel better with a camera?” He taunted. “Hmmm?”

“Hu--Ransom,” you uttered.

“Come on,” he forced his hand between your legs and flicked between your folds. “What did you think this was? How long did you think I’d wait?”

“No, but--” You gasped as he toyed with your clit, “Ransom.”

“Say it again,” he swirled his fingers. 

You gulped and moaned as he rubbed harder. Your legs quaked around his hand as he slid his fingers further back. You felt your arousal slicken as he spread it over your cunt and poked around your entrance. He slid a finger inside of you as he wiggled his crotch against your hands.

“Is this what you came for? Or did you want all of me?” He pushed another finger in. “You want me inside you, baby? Stretching you?”

You groaned as he curled his fingers and pressed the hell of his hand to your clit. He rocked his hand and cried out. Your legs cramped as your feet curled in the high stilettos.

“It doesn’t really matter what you came for,” he pushed on your shoulder until you bent forward. He caught the middle of the cuffs and held you like that. “I’m gonna get what I want.”

You closed your eyes and whined as he pulled his fingers out of you. You quivered and he spanked you before he withdrew his hand entirely. You felt him fumbling behind you as you shook your head. As you had been since you met him, you were off-balance. You couldn’t decide if what he wanted was what you wanted too.

You felt a prod along your ass. He brushed his tip down your cheek and poked between your legs. He wetted himself on your folds and pushed along your entrance. Slowly, he slid into you, grunting as he sank past his tip. Deeper and deeper until you threw your head up and moaned. He filled you completely; painfully and delightfully.

“Yeah, you want me.” He hissed as he thrust and jerked your body. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

You hummed as he moved against you, your shoulders straining as he tugged on the cuffs.

“Say it. Say you want to be mine.”

“Ah,” you moaned, “I want-- to-- I-- I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, baby,” he snarled, “All mine. Aren’t you?”

“Y-y-yes,” your eyes rolled back as he sped up.

He rammed into you so hard your legs buckled. He growled and followed you down. He bent you over the table as swept the bucket and vase out of the way. He got to his knees as he pinned you over the top and crushed your hips against the edge. Your cheek was hot against the cool table as he jolted you.

“Mine,” he grunted, “Baby, all mine…”

He rutted into you as his voice mingled with yours. You whimpered as your legs tingled and your core bloomed. You let out a feral whine as you came, convulsing beneath him as he gripped the table above your shoulder. 

“You want me.” He rasped, “You want me to cum in you.”

“I-I-I…” You twisted your hands as you struggled to think; struggled to do more than murmur wildly.

“Fuck.” He swore and you felt him burst. 

He slowed as he slapped the table and when he stilled, he held himself over you and his breath sent a shudder through you. He sat back on his knees and slid out of you. His cum spilled down your thigh and you slumped down against him. He pinched the velvet bunched around our waist.

“You got more gifts to open, baby,” he slapped your ass as he stood, “You think you can keep up with an old man like me?”

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Do you know?... Steve Rogers x reader smut

Feel free to show your support for my writing at Ko-fi. All donations are appreciated, thank you x

Warnings: swearing, oral m-receiving, 18+ readers only

“Would you stop staring, it’s creepy.” Bucky sighed deeply next to Steve as his metal fingers pulled at his collar, desperately trying to loosen it.

Steve rolled his eyes as he looked away from you. “I’m not staring, Buck.”

Bucky scoffed turning to rest his left arm on the bar so he could look at Steve. “Don’t lie to me, punk,” he smirked. “You stare at her all, the time.” he teased Steve.

“I don’t always stare at Y/N, jerk.” Steve frowned.

“I never said, Y/N… punk.” Bucky poked Steve in the shoulder as he began grinning. “Just go talk to her.”

Steve sighed dropping his head. “And say what?”

“Well… back in the day, I would tell you to be yourself but that almost got us killed last time…” Bucky teased making Steve huff and roll his eyes at him again. “I don’t understand why you find it hard to talk to her.”

Steve shrugged. “I just… I look at her and everything I have planned in my head to say just… I forget. She’s just so damn beautiful.” he smiled a little. “I mean, she’s more than her looks; she’s smart and funny, respectful, understanding, friendly, caring… lovable,” he whispered before he let out another sigh.

You found yourself smiling at Steve’s words as you overheard him speak to Bucky. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You’d only come over to speak to him but when you heard your name leave his lips you found yourself just standing behind him listening, giving Bucky a pleading look not to give you away and he didn’t. You’d planned on telling Steve something similar but as you took a stand next to him at the bar you were interrupted.

“When are we going to stop beating around the bush, eh?” you sighed deeply as you turned your attention to the man beside you, missing Bucky finally give Steve the nod of your presence behind him.

“Greg.” you sighed deeply. “What, can I do for you?” you frowned at him. The man had been pestering you forever to get in your pants, he wasn’t even shy about saying those exact words either.

“Don’t act dumb, babe. You know what I want.” he winked at you.

You scoffed shaking your head. “A dick pic is not a way a girl wants to be asked out.”

“Whoa!” he held his hands up. “Asked out? No, no, you don’t get asked out, I get inside you.” he grinned. “Look, just a quick one you don’t even have to fall in love with me.”

Your eyebrows shot up almost disappearing in your hair. “No!” you turned around again only to have him loop his arm around you. “Get off me, Greg.”

“C’mon, Y/N… maybe if you let me shove my dick inside that cave you call a tight little pussy you might lighten up a bit.” he chuckled as he pulled you closer to him.

You grabbed your drink and threw it in his face before you slapped Greg across the face. “Fuck you!” you hissed.

“You little bit-” before Greg could finish his sentence Steve had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled his ass in front of him.

“What was that?” he asked towering over Greg, his body caging him against the bar. You stared at the two men, a little worried Steve was going to get himself in trouble.

“Steve!” you placed your hand on his bicep hoping to get him to stop.

“Hmm… perhaps you should go get some fresh hair, doll.” Bucky nodded his head towards the balcony. “Go, I’ve got this.”

You loved your job as a Doctor for the Avengers. You’d always been a caring person, wanting to help in any way you could. You treat everyone with the same respect regardless if they were Tony Stark or Aunt May, every life was important. Well, maybe you treated Steve a little differently. Even though he was Captain America you always liked to double-check none of his old illnesses were harming him. Nothing to do with the little crush you had on him (it had everything to do with your little crush on him). It grew more and more with every visit Steve made which seemed to be at least once a week sometimes.

“You okay?” Steve cleared his throat as he walked out onto the balcony where you stood leaning against the railing.

You sighed deeply nodding, your eyes focused on the tiny bit of scotch still in the glass that was in your hand. “Apart from causing a scene at a children’s hospital charity event, yeah, fine.”

Steve frowned as he came to your side. “You didn’t cause the scene, Y/N.” he reassured you as he placed his hand on your shoulder, his thumb slowly rubbing circles of your skin sending shivers across your skin.

You shook your head sighing. “Are you kidding me? I slapped him after-” your eyes widened as you noticed the state of Steve’s blue shirt. “Is that blood on your shirt?” you asked looking up to his face, noticing more of his appearance. “Steve! Your bleeding.” you gasped as you stepped a little closer to him. Your medical training taking over as you began to touch the skin around his split lip. What had he been doing?

Steve chuckled taking your hand in his. “Y/N, I’m fine.”

There was no way he let Greg just hit him. You frowned slightly as you turned his hand to face you. You sighed shaking your head; his hand was still covered in blood and it was most definitely his. “Oh, Steve, what happened?”

He shook his head sighing. “Nothing, doll.” he gave you a soft smile as he looked up to you.

“Well… I don’t believe that for one second, but, as long as he came off worst?” Steve nodded chuckling. “Good. Now, let me clean you up, Captain.”

The moment those words left your mouth Steve lost it. His hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you closer to him, his lips crashing against yours. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you, moaning into the kiss as his tongue slipped into your mouth. Steve’s strong hands gripped hold of you, making you feel safe. A metallic taste fills your mouth reminding you of his injuries.

You pulled back from Steve gasping, your hand going to your mouth. “M’ sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

You pulled Steve into another kiss but a much softer one. “No, you should have but, you’re bleeding,” you whispered, your lips brushing his. “C’mon, I better clean you up.”

“No, Y/N, I-”

“That’s an order, Mr. Rogers.” you pointed your finger at him with a smirk as you took his bleeding hand to lead him away.

You took Steve to your office instead of the medical bay as it was closer but still far enough away from the party. Steve sat on the small two-seat sofa you had in your office whilst you sat in your desk chair whilst you checked his wound. Once you were satisfied they weren’t in need of stitches you cleaned his knuckles and proceed to wrap them. They’d heal within hours no doubt but you still liked to make sure.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Steve.” you sighed as you tied the bandage off.

Steve frowned as he looked up to you. “Why are you sorry? He was the one being rude to you, Y/N.”

“But you got hurt. That was the last thing I wanted,” you said to him.

Steve shook his head as he once again took your hand in his. “Sweetheart, I’ll heal. As long as you’re okay, a split lip and some cut knuckles are nothing… You’re all that matters to me, okay?” he whispered before he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

You looked down trying to hide your face so Steve couldn’t see you blush. “Why’s that? Because I’m caring and lovable?” you bit your lip trying not to smirk as you looked up to Steve.

“I don’t-” Steve shook his head as he looked down. “How long were you stood behind me?” he asked with a small smirk.

You chewed the inside of your lip pretending to think about it. “Hmm… I think you said… you look at me and everything you have planned-” you burst out squealing as Steve scooped you up into his arms and sat you on his lap, his mouth crashing against yours once more.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. Steve placed one of his hands on your lower back as his other one laid across your bare thigh. You moaned into his mouth as you felt his tongue once more caress yours. Your fingers gently tangled into his soft, blonde locks as your kiss deepened. Eventually, you had to pull back needing to breathe but as you did you became aware of Steve’s growing erection under your leg.

“Oh, hmm, sorry. I-” You pecked Steve’s lips once more as you slowly began to move from his lap and onto the floor. “What are you-”

“Shh…” you slowly ran your hands down his lower abdomen and over his the outline of his cock. “Is this what I do to you, Steve?” you asked looking up to him through your eyelashes.

Steve gulped nodding. “Y/N, you don’t have-”

You shook your head smirking at him. “I want to Steve. God, I want to make you feel good. Can I?” Steve nodded gulping as his hands gripped a hold of the sofa.

Teasingly slow your fingers danced along the length of his zipper until you came to the buckle of his belt. You bit your lip as you unclipped it before pulling the zip of his pants down before your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers. Steve raised his hips from the sofa cushion to allow you to pull his pants and boxers down until his hard cock sprang free.

Your eyes widened a little as you took in the glorious sight of him. “Fuck, me.” you didn’t mean to gasp at the sight but it just slipped out. Yep, the serum definitely had gifted Steve. You bit your bottom lip as you looked up once again to Steve. “I can’t wait to taste you, Captain.” you teased him.

Steve shut his eyes briefly. “Fuck, Y/N-” he chuckled. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

You shook your head as you gently wrapped your dainty fingers around the base of his cock, this time Steve was the one to gasp. “Let’s see, shall we.” you leaned forwards and licked the full length of his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip. “Hmm, delicious.” you moaned as a bead of pre-cum settled on your tongue.

Steve’s right hand that was cut up, tangled into your hair as you wrapped your lips around his head. You moaned around him as you slowly sank down his length, the underside of his cock grazing over your tongue.

“Fuck-” Steve gasped again, his eyes shooting open.

His teeth dug into his bottom lip as you began to bob your head as you wrapped your hand around his shaft.

“Shit!” he groaned again.

You tightened your lips around his cock as you sucked hard around him.

“Ah, fuck- wait!” Steve pulled you off his cock. You looked up to him confused and worried you’d done something wrong. “Move back, baby. I want to get a good look at you whilst you suck my cock,” he smirked at you as he stood to his feet.

You licked your lips as you crawled backward on the floor until Steve could stand in front of you. Once in position, you took Steve into your mouth again, moaning around his length as he slipped in deeper than before.

Your eyes fell shut as you sucked and bobbed your head. Steve slipped his hand under your chin and slowly began to move his hips back and forth, pushing in even deeper. Soon he was completely fucking your mouth and you loved it.

“Fuck sweetheart, you look so Goddamn beautiful with my cock in your mouth.” Steve groaned as he felt your tongue lick his underside as his cock moved in and out of your warm, wet mouth.

You looked up and locked eyes with Steve and he swore he could see you grinning around his cock, only turning him on to the max.

“FUCK! Gonna cum. That what you want? Me to fill you up?” he asked as he screwed his fist up into your hair, dragging you on and off his cock.

You nodded moaning around his cock, your fingers digging into the globes of his ass as you steady yourself.

“OH SHIT! ARGH!” Steve cried out as he came deep inside your mouth, his hot cum slipping down your throat.

Steve practically fell back onto the sofa after you had pulled off him, grinning like a Cheshire cat as you run your fingers across your bottom lip, collecting any of his cum that you may have spilled. Steve’s chest heaved as he sat there. The two of you staring into each other’s eyes, neither making any effort to move.

“You’re not in any rush to go back, are ya’?” Steve asked grinning down at you as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

You shook your head before you wrapped your lips around the tip of his thumb, sucking it into your mouth for a brief moment before you pulled off it with a pop. “Definitely, not.”

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Water Symbols and Ties Between Grady and Terminus: “A” Rewatch by @wdway

This is another re-watch from @wdway. She totally saves my butt on busy weeks when I don’t have time to write new theories, lol.

Here are her observations:

Hi ladies! I hope you're both doing well. I did a rewatch of s4e16 A, series number 51. I think it's important to mention that this episode was co-written by Scott Gimple and Angela Kang.

It starts out with a flashback of the prison and then we have Rick, Carl's and Michonne talking about how hungry they are. Later, they catch a rabbit in a snare. I thought about how much rabbits were featured in this back half of s4. It emphasized the size when Rick says, "A small one." Later, Michonne mentions again it was a small rabbit. This made me think of Lennie talking about the little ones.

I'll skip over the Claimers, other than the car scene where Daryl and Rick were talking. Daryl brings Rick a bottle of water. There's no label. It's just clear. It's actually a good size bottle and he sets it down in front of them. He brought water = Beth into that scene. They brought Beth into the Terminus part of the episode with the use of symbols that we were totally unaware of at the time. We gradually realized them as the seasons went on, the water being a huge symbol.

This is right after they jumped the Terminus fence and found this door propped open. Notice it says that it's a fire door, a way to escape. I think this can be considered a water symbol, just as a fire pull or ceiling sprinkler would be. I cropped this shot so that you could read the sign on the door a little easier. I do want to mention that Daryl is next to Rick and they are the only two in the shot.

Rick and co come out into a common area or plaza and are about to get a plate full of meat when Rick notices objects from people from the prison. He takes a guy to use as a shield against the sharpshooters.

I just mentioned how the door was the symbol of water, even though it was a door. Well, this is similar. That red object against the wall is a fire hose holder. I know this because I noticed it at the end of Us when Maggie and her group first came into Terminus. I noticed how it said fire hose. You can also see the fire hydrant next to it and if you look closely at the base, it's just a prop. There's a bottom section that should be buried or would be connected to some type of piping if it was real, so these are not objects that were already at this location. That means they're symbols.

Notice how this little corner is visible during the majority of this scene. We see it to the side or behind Rick almost the entire time. So, we have a fire hose and a fire hydrant. Both Beth symbols because they = water.

Look straight above the fire hose stand. There are 2 diamonds at the top of the building. I don't think they’re original to the building because of the shadowing around them. They appear to simply be tacked up, serving no particular purpose other than being diamond shaped, which = Beth.

Now look at the corner next to the hose and hydrant. There is a sign on the brick wall that I believe refers to the hose or hydron. It reads, “emergency water key, replace when used.” Just in case we didn't know this was a water reference, they wanted to make sure that they let us know, but I really like the fact that it's a water key.

I just needed to point out Daryl's Poncho which, ironically, he didn't notice, but Rick did. 

The three small pictures underneath it are original sketches of the Native Americans’ Thunderbird.

Our little group starts to run for their lives. We follow them as they run past a boneyard, turn different corners, and then all of a sudden we see this shot.

Notice the fire hose stand, a tire, the yellow objects, the abandoned car with a shattered windshield and these stacked train cars. During this shot, we hear a female voice calling for help. Here's the funny thing: we never see our group running through or past this, so this is staged simply to show us symbols. In one of the five flashbacks was of Rick coming into the prison with Beth/Judith sitting on the steps, Patrick was sitting on the floor in front of Beth's cell, making something out of Legos. Carl is cleaning his gun. Rick stops to talk to Patrick and Patrick thanks Rick for picking up the Legos and he makes a comment about that they are for ages 4 through 12. I've always thought that was somewhat odd.

I just want to throw out an idea to you. This might actually be a comment about the story arc lasting from season 4 through season 12. I'm not talking about the series ending at 12, I'm simply thinking that this storyline, Rick, Beth, Daryl and Carol will continue through season 12.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Love it all! I especially liked the fire and water stuff you pointed out at Terminus and how they brought Beth into it. The combination of water and key is especially interesting. You did spark one idea from me.

And I know I sound like a broken record on this point, but could Terminus have foreshadowed the helicopter group? (Yes, I know I’m saying this WAY too often, and all the things I point to and consider probably do NOT directly equate to the helicopter group, but think of it as a mindset shift on my part. I’m kind of considering all things in light of the helicopter group.)

I was thinking that Terminus was where all the train tracks met, right? And we’ve seen more than one representation of the train tracks representing character paths. So, it would have made more sense if all the characters had met up at Terminus. And most of them did. Beth was the exception. But if this was a foreshadow of all character paths converging at some future point, then that would make sense. Because Beth is the one that’s been gone for a long time, but since then, others, such as Heath and Rick, have also disappeared.

So, all paths need to converge at some point, and we believe that will happen in some way via the helicopter group. See why I’m thinking this? I think what you’ve found here backs this up.

Another insight? Remember in 5x09, we see some train tracks with the camera moving forward along them, and the tracks disappear into the woods up ahead. Maybe those tracks represent Beth’s path, and the fact that it’s going to disappear for a while. But it will reappear and meet up with other character paths at some future point.

Which also reminds me of a kind of famous passage in the book of Revelation about a woman who gives birth to a child but then goes into hiding in the woods. Most scholars interpret it (a total analogy) as that the true gospel Christ taught would go into hiding for a while (Dark Ages) but re-emerge later. I don’t know if this is what they were going for or even considering, but it’s what I thought of. Might be a similar template. Anyway, great rewatch. You always have eagle eyes.

@wdway:

I cannot tell you how much I agree with you. I definitely think Terminus was tied to the helicopter people or, more precisely, that Terminus is connected to Grady and it is Grady who had a connection with the helicopter or what the helicopter group was at the beginning of the turn. I believe it's around a year-and-a-half into the turn when Beth was brought there, and I believe they have evolved over the 10 years.

Dawn pretty well confirmed that there was a group coming soon, so it makes total sense that it could be a military-type organization. I'm going to show you some shots that will totally bring back what I've been obsessing about all the seasons.

Top one is Hansen, Dawn's Superior until he went crazy. I know the second shot is really dark. This is the best I can do with trying to lighten it. Do you remember this at the end of No Sanctuary, where they give a bit of a backstory of Terminus being taken over by this big guy who terrorized them? I believe this guy is Hanson.

Isn't it strange that they tell a backstory about a group that TF has taken down and that they go to a lot of effort to make this person hard to see?

That's right. I think the crazy guy from the train box car is none other than Hanson. If you look at Slabtown and Coda, this person is discussed several times. An awful lot of screen time is taken up with a story of how Hanson went rogue. What's the need of that when Grady is about to be left behind and, more importantly, why do we repeatedly see a picture of him?

The first picture I showed above has his badge next to it. Another question of why do we need to see that? I'm going to throw out a crazy idea. Why not, haha. In the very dark picture below, the guy seems to be wearing some kind of large belt buckle. I think it might be a gun or something stuck in the front of his pants, but I think there's a badge there.

I guess there's a definite yes to me, believing that all of this relates to the helicopter people. More importantly, the new series The World Beyond apparently did not want to start until after we see episode 16. I've said this before. I think at some point, not necessarily the first episode, but I think somewhere within it we will see Grady, pre-Beth.

@frangipanilove

I love you take on Hanson. I totally agree that they alluded to something that we haven’t quite seen yet, and I would love to see Grady tied to the helicopter ppl somehow. I have wondered a lot about the tattoo guy from Terminus and what the deal was with him, and your pics show a remarkable resemblance between Hanson and the crazy terminus dude.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

It would explain the defunct cop cars at Terminus, if Hansen left Grady and arrived in them. And as you’ve said, the weirdness of some of this that hasn’t yet been explained.

That’s it for today. Anybody have any thoughts on these insights?

[sabraeal]

I’d Appreciate Your Input

Set at the end of the first Lyrias Arc, just before they go back to Wistal

Wide Florida Bay | Previous

Shirayuki shifts on her feet, shrinking into one corner of the elevator while it creeps up the lab’s side. She should be enjoying the panoramic view of campus; after all, there’s only this paper to finish and a plane to climb on and they’re done. With Lyrias. For forever. She should just…be drinking this all in.

Instead she stares at her shoes – ballet flats, which are the only pair she’s brought with her that are not either open-toed or utterly destroyed – and asks, “Do you think they’re going to be mad?”

Obi’s slouched against the corrugated metal, head tipped back, but he drops it down to stare at her, face crinkled with incredulity. “About what? That you got a phone?”  

“No! I mean, yes, but --” she bites her lip, trying to gather up these thoughts, trying to put anxieties into words – “we left them with all that work! We should really have been writing too, it’s not fair that we --”

Obi holds out a hand, stop. “Doc. We all watched as your canoe legit tipped into dirty estuary, saw your ancient reliquary of a phone pull a Jack from Tatanic, and then – I mean if that wasn’t enough to earn you a new phone – no fewer than three of us saw Loretta eat it.”

“I mean…” She shuffles in her corner, heat creeping up her neck. “I don’t know if Loretta really eats --”

“She did.” His hand lands her shoulder, long fingers spanning over the wing of her scapula. It’s – nice. Comforting. “Listen, the worst that’s going to happen is that Kazaha will think your phone is too mainstream. Let yourself breathe a little, Doc.”

She thinks about Yuzuri, thinks about sitting over empty take-out containers the night the boys were on Turtle Watch, thinks about the way she said, take up some space, Yuki. Stop apologizing for being human.

Right, she can -- she can be selfish for once. Do something for herself. That’s -- that’s allowed. A little, at least.

“Okay,” she murmurs as the doors open. “I’ll just – do that. Breathe.”

His hand drops from her should to press over the open doors, nodding her through. “Good. Oh, hey, looks like it was the Chinese truck that was outside today.”

The breakroom is just ahead, the whole lab gathered around with Styrofoam containers and wooden chopstick, shoveling noodles into their mouths. She misses them already.

“Great,” she says, wishes she felt as strong as she sounded. “We should -- should go check in.”

They’re barely in the door when Yuzuri jams a hand out, flicking her fingers in the clear sign for gimme.

“Okay, enough teasing,” she huffs. “Show us the goods already.”

Shirayuki blinks, confused, but there’s Yuzuri, gimme gimme, and half the lab perks up from their lo mein with varying degrees of interest. Even Ryuu’s looking, big eyes staring up at them owlishly, flicking between them.

Obi rolls his neck, hands falling to his belt. “Well, all right.”

It jingles once, tongue slipping in one liquid movement through the buckle, before Yuzuri shrills, “I meant the phone! Clearly.”

“We could look at both,” Suzu offers, with a speculative glance toward where Obi stands, grin tilting his mouth.

“You two can send each other your weirdly platonic dick pics later.” Yuzuri heaves a sigh, hand thrusting out farther over the table, toward Shirayuki. “I want to see the merchandise.”

“Again,” Obi drawls with another meaningful jingle, “could mean either --”

“I want to see the shiny new tiny computer,” Yuzuri snaps, giving him a flat look. “There, is that clear enough for you?”

Obi hums, sinking into the seat across from her. “Crystal.”

Yuzuri rolls her eyes. “Great. Now come on, girl, don’t keep mama waiting.”

Shirayuki hesitates, reaching into her bag to pull out the phone. It’s so new she hasn’t even really taken all the stickers off; it feels like she could break it just by holding it too long.

“Thank you,” Yuzuri says, with a cloying look toward Obi. “At least someone here isn’t trying to show me their equipment. I mean, honestly.”

“Hey, it’s a common request,” Obi shrugs, leaning back. “I’m a hot item.”

“You wish.”

“Again, i wouldn’t mind,” Suzu puts forth.

Yuzuri spares him a disgusted look as she flicks through the screens on Shirayuki’s phone. “You don’t count. No one else wants to see dick while they’re eating noodles.”

“I don’t know,” Izuru hums, sending a speculative look over Obi. “How old are you, undergrad?”

“Old enough to buy beer,” he assures her.

She nods. “Yeah, okay, then I wouldn’t mind --”

“Could everyone please get out more?” Yuzuri sighs, tapping through some -- apps? Is that what they’re called? Oh, she really -- she really isn’t savvy enough to have something like this. “This is a sweet little piece though, I gotta admit. I figured you for something sleeker, but I’ve heard nothing can kill these Nokia things.”

“That was the draw,” Obi tells her with a grin. “Chief wanted to see if he could get one of those new iPhones, but...”

Yuzuri stares at her. “One of the sixes? They haven’t even announced them yet!”

Obi shrugs. “Our boss’s boss has connections.”

Yuzuri’s gaze swings to her, half-accusing. “And you said no?”

“The scholarship is supposed to be paying for it!” Shirayuki protests, rounding her shoulder. “And besides, it looked flimsy...”

Despite not strictly being on the market or existing, the salesman had known enough about the model to hit key points, each one making Obi nod and Shirayuki shrink. Glass screen. Lightest phone on the market. State of the art circuitry...

All she could think of was the helpless bloop her battered little flip phone had made as it sunk beneath the water, and the unearthly crunch when Loretta had taken her giant maw to it.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs, shifting in her seat. “Even this one has a lot of -- of buttons. And screens.”

Yuzuri pauses, giving her a searching look. “Well sure. But you know, you can program actual songs as ring tones, right?”

Shirayuki stares. Actual songs... “As in, the midi file, or --?”

“Real songs.” Yuzuri looks far too satisfied with herself. “Here, let me just --” her fingers fly across the screen, and in less than three minutes, she’s handing it back, pulling her own out.

“Now don’t answer,” she warns her. “It’ll spoil the effect.”

Yuzuri picture pops up on the screen, and --

The opening bars of “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” ring out in the meeting room.

“Oh,” Shirayuki breathes. “Huh.”

I don’t want it to be so complicated, Doc had told the guy at the counter as he tried to push product, eyeing the black card on the formica like it was his own personal Jesus. I’m not good at...at computer stuff.

Hard for Obi to see any of that now, her red hair falling in a curtain around her as she bends over that phone, eyes squinted at the screen, and just -- what a load of shit that is. I’m not good at computer stuff. There isn’t a single thing Doc isn’t good at when she puts her mind to it.

She settles back, heaving a sigh and rubbing at the curve of her back, and he reminds her, “You know you don’t have to have a custom ring tone for everyone, right?”

“Well, yes.” She rubs at her eyes, shaking her head like she can clean afterimages like an etch-a-sketch. “I just -- I want to. For the aesthetic.”

“For the aesthetic,” he laughs, setting his computer aside. “You’re going to need glasses if you keep squinting that hard.”

She wrinkles her nose, and hmm, he’d like that, he thinks. Cute frames that are little too chunky to be pretty, but --

But he really needs to get his shit together. They’re flying back tomorrow morning, and -- and he needs to get used to there being other people around. Other people who know Zen. Other people who are Zen.

“I only have a few people left.” She blinks up at him. “I haven’t picked out yours yet. Do you have any suggestions?”

This is far too much power. She has zero pop culture grounding, and something like this is just -- asking for Rick Astley. Or Tom Jones. Something awful.

“Ever heard of ‘The Bad Touch,’“ he tries instead. He doesn’t expect it to work -- sure, Yuzuri calls her a woodland fairy creature or luddite wood nymph -- but she’s alive, everyone’s heard --

She blinks. “No?”

PRANK THAT KEEPS ON GIVING flashes through his head in big, neon letters. and he -- he can’t not do it. It’s just too much temptation for a flawed, human man. “Here, let me see if there’s a good clip of it.”

It takes no time at all, like the planets are aligning for this one sweet prank, a file that specifies second verse with intro. Perfect.

He’s not sure how he doesn’t give it away when he hands the thing back; his grin is hardly contained by his teeth, and his hands are probably shaking, but she just smiles at him and --

And he should probably feel bad. He does, for a moment; for that whole second it takes for him to call her phone and the music to start --

Doc nods along to the beat, looking a little confused, but pleased. “Okay, that’s pretty nice!”

She stops it before the words can even start. It’s a sign. This prank is meant to be.

And who is he to stand in the way of the universe?

“Great,” he says strained, trying to swallow down his grin. “Perfect.”

[paperficwriter]

All That Glitters (BNHA, Fantasy AU, Kiribaku)

I’m sure you’ve noticed that shapeshifting is kind of in my wheelhouse, right? How could I resist?

Dragonboy!Kirishima was very much inspired by @xkumah‘s beautiful, adorable pic of Bakugou getting sweet hugs from scaly boi. Dragon form Kiri was heavily inspired by...well, this guy.

Enjoy! Cut is for length, not for content.

---

“Get back here, you piece of shit!”

Bakugou’s feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted through the woods after the red creature. Bits of grass and dirt stuck to his skin, only making him angrier. Angry at himself for stopping to wash off in the stream, angry at the elk that had bled so much that he had had to stop to wash off in the stream, but especially angry now at whatever the hell had decided to take off with his bone and stone necklace his mother had just given him.

Not that he cared that much about the thing, but she would murder him if he came home without it.

“It’s stupid and gaudy,” he remarked when she put it around his neck. There were several layers to it, with red rocks from the mountains, shiny ocean glass, and what seemed to be bear claws. Okay, that was something he liked. “And heavy.”

She smacked him upside the head. “Don’t be a jerk. You’re old enough to know that you need to start carrying it. What are you going to give your mate when you find them, huh? That raggedy wolf pelt?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Or maybe one of those boots that smell like horse shit?”

“I get it, woman! Gods, your endless screeching is annoying.”

That had led to a night spent with the hounds. Wouldn’t be the first or the last, though. But if he had gone through all that trouble to now have it stolen by a mangy animal of some sort…

“I’ll fucking kill you!” He had just managed to get his pants back on, but his feet were bare, catching little cuts from the brush and bramble as he tore through it. He hadn’t even managed to get a good look at whatever it was, but he knew a few things: it was quick, had a long tail, and moved on four legs that left taloned marks in the ground beneath its feet. And its skin - not fur, that he knew from how the sun shone down on it as it slipped through the thicket - was a rich crimson. Maybe he could make a leather from it…

When the woods opened to a clearing, Bakugou figured this could be his best opportunity, because there was only a short distance before a cliff that dropped a quarter of a mile. He grinned savagely. “Okay,” he said, pulling his knife from his belt, pausing only when the animal turned, and he realized what he was dealing with.

It was the smallest dragon he had ever seen, with short legs and a stocky, muscular body. It blinked at him with wide eyes that shone like garnets, and it flicked at the treasure hanging from its mouth with a small pink tongue. “Drop it,” he ordered, because now that he has seen what it was, he knew he couldn’t just kill it like any other beast. It was a commonly accepted tradition that hurting a dragon - let alone killing it - could bring great misfortune, since they were considered wise and ancient creatures of the earth.  

But then the so-called “sacred” being tossed its head back and swallowed Bakugou’s necklace like a damn bird with a worm, and Bakugou lost any sense of cautionary tales.

“That’s it!” Taking off at a sprint, he dove at the dragon, tackling it. He tried to bring his knife down at his flank, and the shock ran all the way up his arm. It was like stabbing a boulder, a hissing, kicking boulder. Bakugou jumped back to his feet, but as he did, he failed to take into account the massive tail until it had struck him in the middle, knocking the air out of him and blowing him back several feet.

But instead of hitting the ground, he bounced. Right over the edge of the cliff.

The wind whipped around him as he fell, head over heels, his limbs flailing, no telling which way was up or down. He reached out for the rocky face as it blurred at his side, but it only succeeded in cutting his arm. Too fast. Way too fast.

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Yet, it was.

And then, something else entirely was happening. A whistle by his ear, and then he hit a surface other than the ground, and for a second it seemed like the inside of his body was still being pulled by gravity. He chanced opening his eyes slightly, and all he could see was red. And then he heard and felt the thrumming of wings, of muscles moving beneath him, and the reality made itself known: he wasn’t dead. He was flying. On a dragon. On the dragon.

It was only a few more seconds until they landed, and when he put his feet on the ground, his knees buckled. They had arrived at the base of the cliff, and when he looked up at it, the edge where he had started seemed too far away to see clearly.

That had been too close.

“Fuck,” he gasped, gulping down a few more breaths. When he glanced up, the dragon crouched on the grass in front of him, staring at him cautiously, as if it was expecting him to attack again. Perhaps he had been too shocked to let go, but Bakugou realized he still had the knife in his hand.

Slowly, he set it on the ground between them.

And damn if the dragon didn’t take that too.

“The hell?!” Bakugou snapped, but instead of running away again, the creature trotted past him and wriggled into a bush by a rock. Bakugou followed him, finding a small hole that dropped into a cave beneath, cool and silent but for the trickle of water that had made its way from a spring deeper in the plateau and collected in a pool.

The hoard - if it could be called that - was in a bed-sized pile in the center. But instead of gold and jewels, there were fairly common items: many river stones, a broken saucer, a few coins that were more pocket change than treasure, a pot lid, a mirror, a polished chain. Perhaps the most unique item was a sword, which the dragon nosed at to make room for Bakugou’s knife, and then…

“Fucking gross!” Bakugou protested as the dragon arched its back and threw up the necklace like a cat expelling a hairball. It was covered in a film of saliva, but it seemed satisfied as it placed it around a garden statue. The massive beast moved a few more of the items with its tail before it sat on top of the collection of flotsam and puffed its chest out. “I don’t know what the hell you’re so damn happy about. This is the shittiest hoard I’ve ever seen.” The dragon made a noise. “Did you just growl at me?”

It got up and walked back toward him, and Bakugou bent his knees, ready if it tried to snap at him, but it didn’t. However, it did stand up on two of its leg, the shape of it morphing and changing, and then...it wasn’t a dragon anymore. Not exactly, anyway.

“I said it’s not shitty!” The young man who now pouted in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, still wouldn’t exactly be what Bakugou would call “human.” His tanned skin was still scattered with red scales in places, especially down his arms, and the frill around his head had become vibrant hair, pointed ears and two sizable horns. And with his still-present tail and wings, Bakugou couldn’t help wondering what the point of this form would be, because there was no way he could pass for being a normal person. “I’m still working on it.”

“Do you even have any gold?”

“Yes!” He turned back to the pile and moved things around, producing several shiny rocks flecked with yellow. “Look!”

Bakugou smirked. “That’s pyrite, you idiot.” He was surprised how immediately he regretted saying it, because his face fell, and Bakugou wondered if today would mark another first: seeing a dragon cry. He pointed at the sword. “That’s pretty cool, though, I guess. And there could be gold in the pommel. If you cleaned it up.”

“Really?!” Immediately, the sad expression switched to one of absolute glee. “I thought so too! But I don’t want to damage it. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Did you steal all of this?”

“Steal?” A small laugh and a tilt of his head. “I found them, if that’s what you mean.”

“Uh. You stole my necklace. And my knife.”

“You gave me your knife,” he pointed out. “And I found the necklace.” Bakugou glared at the very pointed way that he didn’t say it was his necklace.

“And the fact that I was running after you when you took it wasn’t any indication that I still wanted it?”

“I thought we were playing!” The man grinned, showing off sharp, pointed teeth.

“I tried to stab you!”

“I knew you couldn’t get through my hide.” His smile faded. “I didn’t mean to knock you over the cliff though. I’m sorry. I got a little too excited, and you got hurt.”

Bakugou noticed for the first time that blood was still dripping from the cut on his forearm. When he looked up again, he startled a bit, because the dragon boy had stepped up close to him, peering at it. His eyes had stayed the same...or it felt like it, at least. Before he could stop him, he grabbed Bakugou’s hand and licked the wound.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Bakugou shoved his face, but he held on, swiping it again with his slightly pointed tongue. “Get off!”

Finally, he did, and when Bakugou went to wipe his arm against his pants, he was surprised to find that the wound had closed entirely. Once the blood was rubbed away, it was like the skin had never been broken. The man grinned at him again. “The elders always say not to eat humans because they taste bad. But you taste pretty good!”

Bakugou’s face went red, and he shouldered past the strange creature and reached down to retrieve his necklace. “You might have thought you found this, but it’s mine, so I’m taking it back.”

“All of it?” There was that pitiful expression again, and he gestured with a black, pointed nail at one of the sticky threads.

“Yes, all of it!” He sighed at how disappointed he looked, and finally he removed the piece with the knotted sea glass, placing it back in the pile. It wasn’t like a dragon understood the implications, and his mother probably wouldn’t ask about it. He hoped. He considered taking the knife too, but that was more easily replaced, and he did kind of owe it to him for not letting him become a smear on the forest floor. “Fine. Here. Happy?”

He was. “Thanks!”

“Quit smiling like that.”

“Like what?” It only brightened, and then he was once more in Bakugou’s personal space, wrapping his arms around him, his tail snaking around his ankles. An odor like sulphur and burning leaves tickled Bakugou’s nose, and he stood awkwardly, not sure what to do. Was he…hugging him? “I’ve seen humans do this when they like one another. Am I doing it right?”

“It’s...okay.” Bakugou paused. “It’s not usually this long, though.”

“Oh.” He let go. “I’m Kirishima. What’s your name?”

Could he tell a magical creature his name? Wasn’t there some rule when it came to that, about them being able to bind someone if they knew their true name? Maybe just his family name would be sufficient. “Bakugou.”

“You’re going to come back, right, Bakugou?”

“How the hell could I do that? Don’t know if you noticed, but I nearly died getting here. I can’t exactly climb down easily.” Come to think of it, he didn’t know how exactly he was going to get back to the village now either...

Kirishima’s face scrunched up as he thought, then he clapped his hands together. “We can meet at that stream! Would that work?” Realization dawned on his face. “Do you want me to fly you back there?”

Fly him…? “No. I can make my own way.” He climbed back out of the hole by the bush, staring up into the sky, which glowed pink and orange as the sun slowly descended toward the horizon. Kirishima followed close behind him.

“Are you sure? It’s a half day’s hike up the side of the cliff, and then you have to climb up, and it’s really sheer…it would be quicker and easier! I don’t mind!”

Bakugou frowned at his sincerity, still wary. But to be frank, the thought of trying to make his way back up the incline did not seem appealing, especially since it was late in the afternoon now. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

Bakugou was going to have to learn quicker that he needed to be more direct with Kirishima, because no sooner had he said it than he found himself lifted into his arms and they were airborne. And Bakugou would never say that he yelped, but he certainly was surprised, and he wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s neck as he watched the ground disappear. “It’s okay!” Kirishima called over the wind. “I won’t let you fall! I promise!”

Every bone in his body screamed that he shouldn’t believe him. But he did.

And maybe that was why when he was finally on solid ground again he was willing to agree to see him again. “Tomorrow, then!”

Even if he was annoyingly eager. “Tomorrow.”

[techieoliver]

Yes, Mister Walsh || Coliver (HTGAWM)

Note: -flings self out of the dark abyss that is a working life-

This fic is long overdue. A friend sent me a prompt a while back based on one of those late night text meme things. It was something akin to "I accidentally sent a sext meant for someone else to my boss."

AO3

Summary: All of that expensive bourbon was going straight into the sink when he got home. Or maybe he would sell it to try and keep himself afloat during the horrible weeks of unemployment he was about to face.

Oliver stared at his phone, eyes wide in horror. The pull-up screen still had the airplane mode icon highlighted, but he knew when he would swipe it back down that the sent icon would still be glaring back at him from just below the photo. The image had been sent the previous evening to Thomas - a sweet guy he had just met a few weeks ago at a bar down the street from work. When he woke up in the morning, however, he realized that somehow his drunken brain had managed to select "Connor Walsh" instead. The same Connor Walsh that he was going to have to work with - that he had to send corporate e-mails to on a daily basis. No amount of turning airplane mode on and off would get rid of the image of Oliver's cock in his hand, and he wasn't sure the color would ever fade from his ears.

He was also fairly certain he would never get rid of the queasiness in the pit of his belly. Would Mister Walsh think the image was sexual harassment? Would Oliver lose his job via a trip to the HR department? Would it be such a bad thing if he did?

Oliver was tempted to never return to his place of employment ever again, but the company had treated him incredibly well, and paid him far more than a lot of other environments deemed him worthy of. Besides, if he did ghost on the company (and subsequently his boss) he would be left with a guilty conscience that would plague his attempts to sleep.

Maybe Connor wouldn't have seen the image. There were rumors that the man liked to go out himself - maybe he would understand that it was a mistake? It was thoughts such as those that motivated Oliver to get into his car and make his usual morning commute. More ideas as to the various ways he could still be in the clear were what forced his legs to take him up the stairs to his third floor office space, and what helped him keep his focus on menial coding in the morning. By the afternoon Oliver had actually managed to work his way into forgetting the incident entirely - until, of course, he was summoned via the company Skype to meet with Mister Walsh after his lunch.

That lunch went completely untouched right next to his third cup of coffee. It was rather difficult to eat when one was certain they were about to be fired and charged with whatever misdemeanor fines one could be hit with in response to unsolicited dick pics in the work place. His overly terrified brain even went so far as to convince him there was potential jail-time headed his way, and by the time he actually made it to Mister Walsh's secretary he was one wrong move away from retching.

After what felt like an eternity of bouncing his leg and squeezing his own fingers, the secretary beckoned Oliver in to meet his demise with a kind smile and bright eyes.

If only that secretary knew he was a sexual deviant.

"H-hi...Mister Walsh." Maybe there was still a chance this was about something else. Oliver had been working on a pretty huge project, after all.

"Oliver." Connor greeted with a rather unreadable expression. "Have a seat."

Oliver's stomach felt like it dropped right down into his kneecaps, his legs buckling when he practically fell back into the chair.

"Do you know why we're having this meeting?" Connor asked, fingers steepling in front of his lips.

The tirade of words started shoving one another out of the way to be the first out of his mouth before Oliver could even process what he actually wanted to say. "Mister Walsh I...the picture...I didn't mean, it was...it was. I'm so sorry I didn't...it was meant..I mean." It took a few more minutes of frantic stumbling and panicked eye movements for him to actually squeak out "it wasn't meant for you!"

The din of silence that followed felt heavy in his ears.

"So the text message about wanting my dick in your mouth wasn't meant for me either?"

Oliver felt his heart actually crumple behind his breast bone. "Oh god. No. No, did I send that too?" He groaned and hid his face in his hands. He was going to lose his entire career and what little dignity he'd managed to retain into adulthood...all because he got a little too drunk.

All of that expensive bourbon was going straight into the sink when he got home. Or maybe he would sell it to try and keep himself afloat during the horrible weeks of unemployment he was about to face.

"That's a pity." The words felt like several icicles breaking across his nose. It took his brain quite a few seconds to muddle through the cacophony of his own thoughts to work out what exactly Connor had said - and it took even longer to fully understand the man's three words. Oliver ended up gawking at his boss.

"...you...wanted those messages to be for you?" Years of unrequited pining surged up from the depths - having violently been shoved away and tied up in thoughts of  'he's your boss' and 'he will never want you'. Maybe his drunken self hadn't been such a horrible person after all. "Is this a joke?" Oliver couldn't help but ask despite knowing how unattractive his lack of confidence must have been.

"Because I would. I would understand. If it was. I mean if you want to tease me for eternity that's fine as long as it means I'm not about to get fired or put in a prison cell with some giant muscled jerk who's looking for a bitch. Oh god. I said bitch in...I'm just gonna. Is that. Are we. Is that my punishment? Can I go die in the bad bathroom?"

Connor had tilted his head, watching Oliver through heavy-lidded eyes and sporting an amused smirk. He cleared his throat very deliberately before patting the edge of his desk. "You know what would help you stop babbling?" The man asked it with lifted brows. "Making good on your promise. I'd really like to think that message was intended for me..."

Bad idea. Bad, bad, horrible, terrible idea. That was the boss he had tried very hard to get over throughout their professional careers and those texts weren't even meant for Connor. Then again...would it be so hard to pretend they weren't? Thomas hadn't exactly been very kind to him after their first date...and this would be making several of his suppressed, heated dreams come true.

That was probably why Oliver ended up on his knees, tucked under the desk and trying to avoid hitting his head as he fumbled at the expensive leather of Mister Walsh's belt. He was determined to give the other man the best blow job that he could, and judging by the boss' sharp inhale as soon as Oliver placed his lips around the head of Connor's cock, it was off to a good start.  

Oliver pressed his palms against each of Connor's inner thighs, wrists being dug into by the edge of the other's slacks, which were scrunched just below his knees. The small space was rapidly warming and caused Oliver's hair to curl slightly, sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. Oliver was maybe a little too eager, sliding his mouth along the length of Connor's dick over and over until his chest burned and he had to pull off for a gasp of air. Whenever he did the shock of cold that hit Connor made his stomach ache in the best way.

Eventually, though, the man grew tired of the tease and he wrapped his fingers messily in Oliver's tie and cinched it tighter around the base of Ollie's throat. Connor's other hand dug into dark hair and forced Oliver's mouth back down onto his cock. He knew Oliver had been doing it on purpose as soon as the man adapted and started breathing through his nose as if he knew he could do so all along.

"Fuck," Connor swore after a few seconds of panting filled the room. Connor's knee hit the inside of his desk as he allowed himself a few small thrusts into the heat of Oliver's mouth. The other man accommodated those movements like a champ, and just as he started to take Connor deeper - Oliver grazed the very tip of his tongue under the defining ridge of the head, and Connor didn't even have a chance to warn Oliver before he was coming a lot sooner than he intended.

Slowly Connor relaxed the grip he'd held on Oliver's tie, coaxing the other man off with a few well-placed brushes of his fingertips along Ollie's jaw and throat. "S-sorry..." Connor apologized sheepishly. It was jarringly adorable and Oliver felt a little twist in his chest in response, his lips still parted as he tried to drag in the air he had been denied.

"It's okay," Oliver finally rasped before wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His whole body was still sparking with sensitivity, muscles twitching in his arms every time the sleeves of his shirt moved against them. Ollie leaned his ass back against the heels of his shoes to roll those sleeves up as he tried to relax himself, still trying to breathe properly. "S-so...uhm..." Oliver didn't even realize he was tucking Connor back into his boxer-briefs, and pulling up the man's pants. The motions had come simply, as if he was on auto-pilot as he tried to adjust to everything that had happened so quickly.

"I'll expect you to keep me updated with more photos of that project, Hampton." Connor put things into perspective so easily that it made Oliver wonder if the man could somehow read his mind. "And." A certain gentleness came into the other's tone, setting a different meaning than the coy one Connor had just been using. "I'd like to meet for dinner this evening. I think we have a lot more to discuss."

Oliver could only fight against the huge grin threatening to take over for so long, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he finally lost that battle. His response came with an adorable sort of playfulness behind it.

"Yes, Mister Walsh."