#is this my excuse to draw more abs?

[willows-arts]

one of these days i'm going to make a full diagram for how i break down the underarmor body of robot masters

[glacialswordsman-a]

decided to draw a ref for how i view my yaya since i have bunches of headcanons for him

i'll put it in the headcanon masterpost but i'll give him an individual post too

pls DO NOT rb bc i dont want it getting out further than my circle aslkdjaslfj thank yewww <3

[teeth-draws]

“You are a scholar, are you not?”

@shepherds-of-haven‘s Red + my MC Halle as Milo and Kida for Halloween huehue

[absfawn]

ice play with abby?

need her to be real already so we can do this.

“you look so pretty” abby mumbled. blue eyes flickering around every second, not wanting to miss a single expression on your face. the sounds of your heavy panting, choked whines and gasps echoing through her ears. “good girl” she whispered closer to your ear, fingers dragging the ice cube across your collarbones and between the valley of your breasts. the sheer coldness has you shivering.

“s’cold” you whimpered. your thighs clenching together tightly and back arching into her, not wanting her to know that you like this more than you’re letting on.

chuckling under her breath, abby hums with a soft “yeah i know, baby. but you’re doing so good f'me” cold droplets of water run down your skin. your mouth parts with a gasp once she drags the ice cube just across the side of your breast. “you like this” she states. to you or herself? she has no idea.

“abby please, just— oh” you gasped. your fingers weaving into her blonde hair, tugging lightly. her lips wrapped around your left nipple, licking and sucking off the water while she switches around and drags the ice cube over your other breast. humming at your little gasps and whimpers. “okay yes, i like it” you admit.

letting your nipple go with a ‘pop’ abby lifts her head, a sly grin appearing on her lips. “prettiest tits” she groaned. the remaining ice cube she currently had between her fingers, melting away, water dripping down your stomach, and pooling into your belly button. “prettiest everythin’” she continued, fingers trailing the goosebumps that rose on your skin.

even though the ice still had you shivering, nipples pebbled and breath uneven, it didn’t stop abby from reaching over and grabbing another ice cube from the glass. “abs” you whispered needily, eyes on her every move.

“patience, baby. i’ll give you whatever you want, but let me have my fun first, yeah?”

no time or room to talk back, plead, and beg her for anything— you’re gasping, legs twitching when she drags the ice up and down your inner thigh, water dripping from your skin and onto the bed sheet below. “yes…” you nodded.

exhaling softly, your thighs jolt at the coldness of the ice, hands gripping the sheet of your bed. abby’s fingers draw the ice higher up your thigh, lips following behind, licking up the dripping water, chuckling at your shaky breaths. “pretty all over huh?” she groaned. her eyes fixated on your cunt and if she were to drag the ice anymore, it would be exactly where you want it. “need it that bad, huh?” she taunts, watching the way your pussy clenches around absolutely nothing. “yeah, you do”

you were too dazed and focused on her face and the feeling of that damn ice cube to even realize you had tears streaking down your face, the salty feeling slipping between your lips as the cold sensation gets closer and closer— your head fell back against the pillow with a whimper, fingers continuing to thread through her blonde hair, and the small hope that she would be done soon, swam through your mind. “feels good, abs— fuck!” you choked out. her hand quickly moving around to keep one of your legs open when they try closing, whimpers and gasps slipping from you as she drags the small remaining ice cube up and down your folds. “shit shit shit” you chant, shivering.

“you’re doing so good, baby” she mumbled. sitting back on her knees, admiring you with a soft dazed smile. “my good girl” abby groaned lowly, watching the water drip down your folds. “you alright baby?” she questioned.

nodding wordlessly, you push your body a little closer to her, whining and pouting when she’s quick to pull the ice cube away the second you move. “but—”

leaning over to the nightstand, ignoring your whines and excuses, you catch the mischievous grin sitting on her face. quick to pull out yet another ice cube from her glass, somehow still not fully melted yet. “promised you would let me use the rest, until then, let me have my fun. you’ll get whatever you want, after”

[butterscotchpiesandguys]

Acting The Part

I was a film student, that means I had to play a lot of roles. Mostly, however, I remained the one behind the cameras. Why? Well it was simply because I was pretty humble... in my own words, others would call me shy and reserved.

I had a project coming up, a final film for the semester. Had to be within the genre we were working for an unfortunately for me that was romance. I was not good with romance, obviously of course. I was shy. So... that was why I partnered up with a few buddies, Chris, Tony, Danielle, and Skylar. It was an optional group project due to how big it was. Unfortunately one guy who was left out was Brian. A total douche, called himself a sigma and everything. Totally full of himself.

Saw himself being the star too, always was in the movies... although with his ripped abs, jawline, and general physique... it was obvious why he thought he would be in the group... so we started scripting. It went well at first, that was until Brian started butting in. Asked if his girlfriend could be the love interest. This was supposed to be a group project and so we said no, Danielle would be covering that part. He whined about it until Skylar came up to me to ask something. "Do we need Brian here?" He asked softly, so he didn't actually hear. He was off arguing with Tony again, Go figure.

"Well... I did have an idea..." I admitted. Of course this idea was also a bit rude. We would simply do the script without him. Meetup some times, make excuses. It worked for a while until he started to get suspicious. He was stupid but he wasn't that stupid.

About a week into scripting, everything was coming out well. We almost had it done and we even had a role for Brian! Now we weren't going to tell him until the day of, and seeing how he needed this for a good grade... he'd have to go along with it. Well that was what I thought until he stopped me on the way to a class. "Hey [Y/N], how's it hangin." He put his hand beside my head as I leaned against the wall. He asked a simple question, quite friendly too... if it wasn't for his threatening tone. "Been a while, started to think my film partner died. That would have been bad." He chuckled and let up a bit. "Why don't we talk about the script for a bit. "I uh..." I tried to speak up but he put his hand on my back as he walked me away from the class I had next.

"You say somethin? No? Okay well good, we're goin someplace nice and comfortable." He started to walk me out of the building and through the campus. Some people stared at us, I mean a star football player and some film student would draw some eyes. Eventually we got to the bleachers of the football stadium. It was super empty and due to Brian having a part time job cleaning the place he had keys.

We sat down on some metal bleachers near the announcer's box and he had me get out my laptop. "So, run me through the script. Last I heard I was going to be the star?" He smirked a bit. This would be hard to break.

"Well uh... I'll just uh... we made some changes but everything's still very flexible!" I tried to assure him. I started at where it would begin, a nerd getting bullied. The bully was played by... Brian. he wasn't too happy but was willing to hear me out. Then I went through the story slower, more cautiously to not offend the giant oaf. Stuff about the nerds banding together... having a fun time and ultimately the nerd getting the nerdy chick. Danielle was supposed to play the nerdy girl, Skylar wanted to be the main character. I would be the camera man and director. Brian looked annoyed. "So... this sucks."

"Wait what? What about it sucks? Is it just because you're not the main star? You know what'd be weird." I tried to fight back. It was partially my script.

"Lemme guess, your buddy Skylar wrote a lot of it." I looked down and did have to agree... so I nodded, Skylar was a great writer though! "Look man, I know you don't like being in front of the camera and stuff but this might be your last little movie, why not have fun with it? How is this fair to you at all?" Wait was Brian sticking up for me?

"I uh... I guess it's not... But I don't really like being the star." I looked at the bigger guy who was now being oddly nice.

He sighed. "Yeah, and I'm not sayin you have to be. I mean you gave me a pretty raw deal." Brian looked oddly sad.

I was always the one to make peace... god damn it... would I really do this? I had to... "Well uh... what would you propose to change that stuff?" I asked, nervous to what he would propose.

"Well, here's my idea. We swap some roles around. Make it better for all of us. Skylar can run the camera this time, he always gets to be in front of it." I nodded, Skylar could be a competent camera man... "Glad you agree, then I can take his role as a nerd and you can be the rival... hell maybe you can get your own babe out of it."

"Wait, what?" I looked at the big guy confused. Him? The nerd? No way. And me as the rival? How the hell would I do that? "I don't think that'll work. I mean we should cast for what we're good at and..."

Brian cut me off, "Yeah and I'm pretty nice, right?" I looked at him, he was looking me right in the eyes. I nodded, not wanting to be rude. "Exactly! So I should be given the chance to play a fun nice guy!" His smile was reassuring but I still had issues.

"Yeah but I really don't think people will buy me as a douchebag..." I sighed and scratched my head. It was true. I was smaller, weaker, and dorky as hell.

"Well, sure, right now you don't but trust me! I got some ideas that can help you! But it's what someone would call... method acting. Probably heard of it."

"That sounds like a dumb idea, I'll be honest. I mean... that'll just get me bullied.... more than usual at least." I sighed, feeling like this was going nowhere.

"Nah, trust me bro. I mean if you stick with me I'll vouch."

"But I barely have any classes with you aside from film related ones." I looked a bit confused. How would that work.

"Well here's the deal. I can talk to my professors, tell them you wanna do some stuff and I'm sure with a little flexing of my status... we can get you in for the few more weeks or months we have left of class this semester. It's not gonna be much, mister straight As." He was going to do that for me?

"I guess... I could see how this goes... I could use a break before my other finals..." I chuckled a bit nervously, which made him pat my back, almost flinging me out of my seat.

"There we go! Here's my phone number and..." He grabbed my phone and put his number and contacts in, "We should be good to go, send me a link to the script btw! Gotta work on that thing!

That night I sent him the link, and felt oddly nervous about this. I mean... it was like starting a whole new life! I hadn't been in front of the cameras in a while so that would be nerve racking too! Brian's advice was to "Not think about it." Seemed he could go his whole life without thinking about much.

The next day we spent working out, and working on attitude. His girlfriend Tori came over during some of it and Brian said it would be a great time to practice confidence. I didn't nail it. He had a good laugh though and she took it in stride. Overall a good Saturday.

The day after that we worked on some more muscle, while also just hanging out again... this time some of his douchey friends came over. He was saying this was both confidence and some experience training. Like being in job training. Eventually I somewhat grew accustomed to them. They all were charismatic and handsome too. I felt oddly at home near some of them, hell I even threw some insults back at them when they came my way. I wasn't great at it yet.

Day three of this shit and I was now walking around with Brian and his little group. Seemed most of them had the same classes. I got stopped in the hall though by a classmate. He tried to direct me to class but... as per a whispered instruction... I mocked him and his shit haircut. After classes we worked out, seemed like this was something I had to do... Brian and Tanner, one of Brian's friends who was more in on it, said this was to make me not sound like a dork when referencing sports and shit. Good reason...

My the next week I was already feeling the burn. Skylar and the others were a bit pissed at me for blowing off our group meetings for hangouts with Brian and his crew. I told him I was method acting and he should get off my case. Well he didn't take it too well. "Well maybe you should stop being in our fucking shit if you like Brian that much!" That was a bad insult.

I yelled back. "Well, maybe if you didn't try to hog the limelight all the time I wouldn't be doing this shit!" It kind of just came out of me. For some reason... Skylar looked a bit... weaker and smaller than me. "Besides, not like you could even carry a movie with that fuckin acne." I may have went too far, he looked pissed and I felt awful. He stormed off leaving me alone...

I had a party that night, at the frat. Brian noticed me looking down the entire time. Came to comfort me. "Bro, trust me. He deserved it. I mean he's always been pushing you back and the moment you try and get out there and have fun he tries to put you back down? Not cool, you know that."

"Yeah but... I don't wanna fuck shit up with my friends and all that." I said with a red solocup in my hand.

"Well... maybe you're better off without them. I mean the only one I see potential in is maybe Danielle." I nodded.

"Yeah, Tony is a nobody, Skylar is a pussy... And I was both. Still feel bad for Danielle." I had a crush on her before.

"Well don't go around pussyfooting. I'm sure we can change the script and as her to method act too! I mean how much fun has it been for you, Oliver."

"Oliver?" I laughed and looked at Brian, "Why'd you call me that?"

"Oh! Well I had an idea. Just a small one. I mean why not go by your character's name? You are supposed to be method acting!"

"Yeah... Oliver... that... works well." I smiled. I mean I did look like an Oliver now... or at least the character! I didn't know how but in retrospect god my body was wimpy. Now I looked fire as hell!

The next few days would be painfully awkward. Skylar would try and salvage the script, much to the annoyance of Brian and I. There were two sides clashing and I knew which one sounded better, Skylar was just doing this for himself. Eventually Brian and I started a secret document, included Danielle in there too. Got them over Discord on a call to talk about the newer idea. By now we had enough of the nice guy act. Brian thought it was way too soft... he pitched the new idea. "Why don't we, instead of doing whatever that little soy boy wants, do our own thing. Like... Why don't we do something where the bullies got some character."

Danielle was hesitant. "Well what about the others? And what would my role be?"

I had an answer already. "Well we need a camera man and Tony, by far, is the best of Skylar and him. I mean I could do it but I've worked pretty hard."

"[Y/N]..." Danielle sighed, She was getting tired of this.

"Dani, it's Oliver or Ollie. I'm taking it pretty serious as you can see." I smiled. into the webcam which I never used before... hell my whole profile changed. Near daily pics of me were my banner and icon instead of some anime boy.

Brian nodded a bit. "So, we want you in this film too Dani, you're a great actress but we want you to practice your new role. You'll be Ollie's bitchy GF, like a mean girl kinda thing."

"But that isn't...." She got cut off by me again.

"Look, Dani... I know it ain't your style but this isn't mine either. To be a star you have to make sacrifices, and playing the part is the thing. I already asked and Tori can help you get into role. And hey, we can hang more if you do... I mean if you want my place is pretty open." It was an invite to fuck. By now I was still a virgin, even if Brian tried to change that many times.

"Okay..." She finally agreed. Thank god this was getting annoying.

Eventually we got our crew together. Some guys from the soccer team for scrawnier nerds, some guys from Brian's crew to be our friends and... Danielle was coming along fine. My type had shifted a bit, especially now that I could have options... they were molding her real nicely.

Skylar soon got wind of our plan but by now it was too late to stop. I was getting ready for the first day of filming. I had my body in peak performance, all done up by one of Tori's friends. And he came over to yell at me. Not congratulate me. By this point I just had Alex, one of Brian and I's friends walk him off the little set we staged. Students would be happy to actually get in this film. I mean we were big stars around campus and we knew it.

People loved how I changed. I became a star. I mean... with my now blonde hair, scuffy facial hair, ripped abs, giant body... who wouldn't. Brian helped me realize something. I was made to be in front of the cameras. I was made to be a star. Danielle would realize that in time too.

As for the filming... it went spectacular. We all got great grades, hell... we started helping Tony out with getting better himself! I mean... we'd need it if we wanted to make more of these. It was a fun parody film... even if it was meant to be serious. The audience didn't get it but whateves. Wasn't my problem. I just didn't have to think too hard about it.

Within months I asked out Danielle, she said yes... of course. We became a new power couple. I urged her to join a sports team like I was doing. I started football like Brian. We did well as a team... also started power lifting and by god I was great! Danielle did gymnastics and by god was she flexible. Eventually I had my name changed. I was welcomed into Brian's family pretty easily too... so I adopted his last name. We were the Greene brothers.... started small with acting and sports but soon, through some modeling and commercials... we started getting big.

As for Skylar... who knows what became of that no name wannabe. He didn't take his shot. Maybe if he was more eager he could have ended up as a male model like Tony. Eh, not my problem. I just played my part and helped everyone around me. That's what being a star is for... you play your part and you like it... And I love it.

[jadewritesficshere]

Wrecked

Eddie Munson x Reader

Content: oral (male receiving) slight sub!Eddie. Listen I just really wanna suck him

18+ only

Your eyes snapped open, adjusting to the darkness in the room as the VHS shut off with a click. The light from the TV seemed harsh, jarring you from the quietness surrounding you. It woke you up from your sleepy state, heart thumping wildly as you realized you had fallen asleep against Eddie. Eddie, who talked a mile a minute and told you interesting facts while watching movies, who had gone silent almost an hour ago as you started to drift off. Eddie, who had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, hand lazily drawing patterns on your arm where it rested. Your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. "Sorry," you yawned as you sat up," Did I fall asleep?"

Eddie blinked slowly before smiling," Don't worry 'bout it. You need to rest." You lazily smile at him as he stands up. He stretches slowly, joints popping that remind you that neither of you are near your teens anymore. He reaches his arms above his head in a stretch, shirt traveling up just enough to give you a sneak peak of his stomach. Pale skin that showed the stark colors of the dragon curled over the top of his belly button. The dragon that had it's mouth open as if it was blowing fire, fire that actually was pink scars courtesy of the demobats. The scars that he always had a different story for when people saw ("I got attacked by a bear." "A witch cursed me." "I didn't eat my vegetables." "I used to defuse bombs").

Your eyes caught on his belly button, the stupid piercing he got claiming "a dragon had to have a hoard". The blue light from the tv causing the jewelry to glint, showing a kaleidoscope of rainbows in the opal gemstones. Your breath caught at the smattering of hair that trailed down from his belly button. Down to the band of his sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Plaid boxers peeking over the hem of his pants obscured your view of the slight v shape of his hips. The TV light providing the perfect amount of light and shadow to show the slight definition of his abs he had gained from long hours as a mechanic.

The sting from biting your lip pulled you from your casual perusal of Eddie's frame. Eddie who hadn't even noticed and was waving his hands around talking as he stared off at the wall,"- but those are just rumors. I mean if they do make a movie, it better be close to the book. No creative liberties. I want to see the book come to life, ya know? I want the dwarves to have full beards, especially the women and-"

You stand up abruptly," Shut the fuck up." Eddie pauses at your abrupt words and movement. Silence spans a few seconds as he notices the glimmer in your eyes," Excuse you?" You hum, running your eyes up and down his frame. Eddie was definitely a man, no longer the boy you had met in high school. He had filled out more, had some scruff on his jawline. His sweatpants had a hole in his knee and there was a stain on his shirt, but he had never looked more beautiful to you. And you had never wanted to fuck him more.

Eddie tilted his head slightly, untamed and frizzy curls bouncing as he tried to decipher the look in your eye. "I will gladly listen to this conversation, but I can't pay attention right now. Not when you're," you wave your hand gesturing to him," that!" Eddie scoffs," Excuse you? That?." One step is all it takes to get in his space, Eddie instinctively taking a step back.

You push on his chest, firm beneath your open palms, causing him to stumble back into the couch. He lands with a grunt and looks up at you with a look of exasperation. He goes to open his mouth to say what you're sure is a snarky remark, but all thoughts leave his head as you grab his knees spreading them open and kneeling in front of him. His jaw drops as he stares at you between his legs. You bat your lashes at him in what you hope is a seductive look, but let's be honest, both you and Eddie suck at flirting. You trail one hand up from his knee, barely touching as your fingers dance their way up his thigh. His cheeks flush, a beautiful dusty pink that spreads down his neck towards his chest. You wonder how far that blush goes as you lift the hem of his shirt.

Eddie is staring at you, frozen in time. You clearing your throat as you tug on his shirt knocks him from his reverie. "Yeah, okay, fuck uh yea." He leans forward enough to pull the shirt over his head. You lick your lips at the expanse of tattooed skin you see. You lean in, trying to decide where to start. You look up through your eyelids at him, slowly licking the happy trail, that definitely made you happy. The image of you licking his skin, peering up at him through your lashes, was burned into Eddie's retinas. Eddie's knuckles were white as he gripped the couch cushions. His stomach flexed unintentionally at the warmth of your tongue. The small whimper he let out fueled your desire, heat pooling low in your stomach. You nip and suck at his hips, one hand resting on his thigh, the other curled around his back to bring him closer to you. You pulled back after adding a lovely red mark that you know will fade to a bruise.

You can't believe you had fallen asleep next to this man, now the only thoughts involving a bed also involved cardio. You lightly trail a finger over the prominent bulge in his pants, earning a sharply inhaled breath and a buck of his hips. "Jesus fucking Christ," he groans, voice lower then you've ever heard. You lick your lips as your hands reach for the hem of his pants and-

"Wait!" Eddie startles you, and you glance up at his wrecked face. "Huh?" You blink a few times starting to pull back," Do you not..?" "No! No I do!" Eddie clears his throat and grabs the pillow next to him," I just...you should be comfortable..." His face flushes as he holds the pillow between you two, causing you to chuckle. You grab the pillow and put it under your knees, even if you don't need it. "Thanks baby. You're so thoughtful." Eddie preens under the praise, looking smug. Your hands return to his waist band, tugging his pants and boxers down. He lifts his hips to help and-

You've never thought a dick to be pretty before. Sure, you've seen some good ones but this? He's long, curved slightly to the right. Precum beading at the top of a head that is flushed so red it's almost purple. A prominent vein trailing the underside of his dick that you want to lick up. Curls around the base that were trimmed but still unruly. The tension is thick as you stare at his dick, wondering where to start. He twitches under your heavy gaze. "C'mon, don't make me wait.." Eddie mumbles. "You'll take what I give you, and you'll be thankful." You snap back, watching the man pout slightly. For all his bravado and extroverted demeanor, he has no power here and he knows it.

But you decide to have mercy on him as you flatten your tongue against his dick, deciding to follow the vein from his base to his tip. Eddie lets out a high-pitched whine followed by a "thank you", but you don't really care. Yes, it feels good for him, but this is also for your pleasure. You swirl your tongue around his leaking tip, tasting the salty essence. Eddie's hand finds the back of your head instinctively, not using any real force or grip. When you fully envelope his tip with your warm mouth and suck, all coherent thoughts of his are gone. He barely can remember his own name. One of your hands holding his hips back so he can't thrust up, the other wrapped around his dick slowly moving up and down.

Eddie sits there babbling nonsense, he never could stay quiet for long. And you wouldn't want him to, his moans and groans like music to your ears. You pull off of him earning a whine. Eddie's face is flushed, bangs stuck to his forehead, a slight sweat broken out on him. He looks down at you with those big brown eyes like you just kicked a dog. "Please? Fuck, please baby? Don't stop."

You smile up at the wrecked man, the man begging for you to continue. You can feel the light pressure of his hand against your head trying to push you closer to his groin. You could make him beg. Make him wait. But he looks so good like this, you want to see him completely blissed out. You inhale deeply before lightly putting the tip back in your mouth. Eddie has no time to mutter a thank you before you fully sink down on him. Your nose coming flush with the hair you admired earlier, taking him deep in your throat without gagging. "Oh fuckfuckfuck," Eddie pants above you, lost in the feeling of you. You hollow out your cheeks and suck, bobbing up and down along his length. He was a twitching writhing mess beneath you. You lightly palm at his balls, adding enough pressure to have Eddie moan. It didn't take him long before he came with a loud groan, hips bucking without a pattern. You swallowed it to the best of your ability, some leaking out and dripping down your chin.

When he was done, you pulled off him with a pop. Eddie's chest heaved as he panted above you. Eddie looked down from the ceiling, not sure when he had thrown his head back in ecstasy. You swipe the cum off your chin before licking your fingers, eyes locked with his. "Jesus Christ," he runs a hand through his hair and lets out a chuckle. You hum and smile up at him. Eddie lightly grasps your biceps, tugging you to get up,"Not sure what brought that on, but I think its time for me to return the favor. Get up here."

[psychesalcove]

(COME ON, COME ON) 2 OF HEARTS, 2 HEARTS THAT BEAT AS ONE

↳ PIPER MCLEAN X GN!READER ”

GENERAL ROMANTIC HEADCANONS

requested: yes, from anon

a/n: My fav nepo baby piper 😔

ᝰ piper literally loves you so much its not even funny

ᝰ you two go to whole foods and trader joes every Sunday to restock your dorm kitchen

ᝰ shes constantly having you try her new drinks that she saw on her tiktok feed

ᝰ you two went to the zoo for her birthday, her fav area was definitely the giraffes

ᝰ and when you were there she had you take loads of photos of her & you with animals

ᝰ she'll also constantly ask if her outfits look good

ᝰ and she buys the two of you matching everything

ᝰ necklaces, bracelets, rings, t-shirts, you name it

ᝰ you helped her design new shirts for the aphrodite cabin bc all of them hate the orange color shirt

ᝰ and you guys are literally the cutest at the camp fire, cuddling and giggling with each other

ᝰ when the two of you aren't in your dorm, and at camp, you'll always sneak into her cabin for bed, and vise versa

ᝰ you have been caught multiple times by Chrion(STOP I FORGOT HOW TO SPELL HIS NAME AND IM TOO LAZY TO CHECK) , but piper uses her excuse of being apart of the 7 to get away with it

ᝰ you guys went to build a bear for your 1st year anniversary

ᝰ and I would like to think that piper asked you to be her partner on valentines day, so when you go you get those stuffies with hearts

ᝰ and you do those custom noise things in the stuffies to 😔

ᝰ she'll also compliment you 24/7

ᝰ I mean, you're her partner, she just wants to show how much she loves and adores you

ᝰ she also def has a heart locket with a photo of you guys inside of it

ᝰ and she refuses to take it off, she wears it when she showers, during capture the flag, on quests, and going to bed

ᝰ I also headcanon that she always has a pink glitter pen on her, so she'll constantly be drawing little stars and hearts on your hands, arms, and legs

ᝰ SMOOTHIE DATES!! extra points if there's a patio you guys can sit out on (she also always orders sm with strawberries fight me if you think otherwise🥰)

ᝰ another thing I headcanon ab piper is that she's doing a fashion degree, so she'll use you as her model for a lot of clothes she makes

ᝰ ALSO!! when you two are at camp, sometimes you'll leave the camp fire early to go back to one of your cabins and then have a dance party

ᝰ Taylor swift is def on the playlist she plays for you guys (mainly 1989 and lover)

ᝰ you also get to help her decorate her car with a bunch of stuff she bought at dollar tree

ᝰ she says it was for experience and not quality

ᝰ she also tells you Cherokee tales her dad told her before you fall asleep

ᝰ she of course tries to go for the less scary ones (she sometimes tells you scary ones so you cuddle her more that night

[leossmoonn]

snow day | mike schmidt

summary - abby has a snow day and spends it with you and mike

warnings / includes - not edited

————

“hey, abs,” mike whispers, shaking her away. she groans and pushes his hand away. “i don’t want to go to school.”

mike glances at you, seeing the excited smile on your face. “you don’t have to, abby.”

she opens one eye. “why?” “your school called and cancelled school. you have a snow day!” you exclaim.

abby sits up in bed, a big smile on her face. “we can build a fort and a snowman!”

“you got great ideas, babe,” you grin at her. “do you want to sleep in some more or are you hungry?”

“i’m hungry,” abby says. “can i have waffles with chocolate chips?”

“you sure can. get to work, chef,” you turn to mike. he chuckles softly. “i need my sous chef.”

“alright. you need any help getting ready?” you ask abby. “no,” she says, hopping out of bed and heading to her closet.

“okay. call us if you need anything. we’ll be in the kitchen.”

you and mike make your way to the kitchen, grabbing a box of pre-made pancake mix and putting some milk and eggs into it. mike’s hands rest on your waist, his chin sitting on your shoulder as you both wait for the batter to cook. you lean into his chest, enjoying the warmth radiating from him. it’s so cold in his house during winter time since he tries to cut down on the electric bills, but you don’t mind. you had him as a portable blanket and he doesn’t mind. it’s an excuse for him to be closer to you.

“you sure you can take work off today?” you ask. “yeah,” mike nods. “even if i couldn’t, i am not driving in that mess.”

you both look out the window. you got eight inches of snow. you didn’t even want to try and walk in it, much else drive.

“well, i’m glad we can take the day off.” you spin yourself around, leaning your back against the counter. mike smiles, “me, too. it’s well-deserved for both of us.” he leans in, pulling your lips in a slow kiss. you sigh into him, your eyes fluttering shut like you’re in a movie. his kisses always make your brain feel numb and body tingly.

little footsteps pad behind two. mike is quick to pull away, positioning himself to where he’s beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“did you out chocolate chips in the waffles?” abby asks. “yes, ma’am,” you answer.

she sits down at the table, placing her crayons and blank pieces of paper in front of her. after the whole freddy’s fiasco, she’s stopped drawing those kids and now has started drawing her friends from school and her teachers. she’s been very into drawing you and mike, as well as your cat that you and mike are 99% sure she’s plotting to steal.

“you should show that drawing to cornelius, abby. he’ll probably be confused that there’s two of them,” you remark.

“or you can bring him here and we can keep him,” abby says.

you can’t help but snort at her request. “maybe if mike invites me to move in.”

mike rolls his eyes, flipping the waffle maker and taking the waffle out. “you basically already live here. your cat probably thinks you’ve abandoned him.”

“not true. i haven’t stayed a night here in a couple weeks.”

“mmm, yeah. what’s up with that?”

“been busy. you miss me or something?” you grab some plates and silverware, starting to set up the table.

“maybe,” he says. you glance at him, catching the coy smile playing on his face.

“after breakfast can we make a snowman ?” abby asks.

“sure,” you nod. “it’s cold, abby,” mike says.

“there’s nothing else to do here. and i want to build the fort after we go outside.”

“that’s not a bad idea,” you look at mike. “i’ll look if we have a carrot for the nose.

abby eyes light up and mike shoot you a glare. you pat his back gingerly, grabbing some napkins and cups.

“you have to put on a sweatshirt and coat, okay? and a hat and gloves,” mike says. abby let’s our a big sigh. “fine,” she says, knowing it’s part of the seam.

abby gobbles down a waffle and a half before she pops up out of her seat like a jack-in-the-box, running to her room and putting on all her warm clothes. she throws on a beanie and grabs a scarf, having you help her tuck it into her coat.

“hurry up, guys! the snow will melt!” abby exclaims, running to the door.

“hey, hey, hey,” mike stand up. “i’ll get my coat on so at least one of us is outside with you.” he goes into hips room and grabs his winter coat and some boots.

“here, you need this.” you slip a black beanie onto his head. “i’ll be fine.”

“you made abby bundle up, so you need to, too,” you say. “fine. don’t worry about the dishes, i’ll clean them up after this.” mike kisses you on the cheek before going outside.

you at least put the dishes in the sink before getting yourself ready to go outside. you close the door behind you, seeing the bottom hall of the snowman already standing.

“that was fast,” you say. “abby was very enthusiastic. now she’s a little tired i think,” mike says.

“it’s hard to roll snowballs, even for me. they always fall apart when i do it,” you sigh.

“ah, finally something you’re not good at,” mike grins at you. you roll your eyes and punch his shoulder, a smile breaking the straight line on your lips. “i’m pretty good at this.” you say as you bend down and pick up a handful of snow, molding it into a small hall and throwing it right at mike’s face.

“hey, i’m right next to you! that not fair!”

you give him a wink, walking over to abby to help her roll a snowball. you’re almost done when you feel snow it the back of your neck. you gasp and look up, seeing mike’s hands in his pockets.

“what?” he asks, a telling smile on his face. “abby schmidt, would you like to form an alliance with me in a snowball fight against your brother?” you turn to her as you help her put the body of the snowman on.

“yes, duh!” she giggles. “looks like you’re alone, micheal,” you look at him, putting your arm around abby.

he shrugs, making another snowball. “i’m not worried.” he hits you in the face like you did to him.

“looks like we have a war on our hands,” you remark.

you and abby end up using half of the snowman as your shield. mike is careful not to knock down the snow balls, but he has impeccable aim from playing little league, so it’s no sweat for him. abby is your snowball supplier. her little hands mold them quickly, handing them to you one after the other as you aim them at mike’s face and chest.

“you getting cold with all the snow in your clothes, schmidt?” you ask.

“nope. i’m pretty warm, which means you suck at this.” he throws a snow ball at you, hitting your shoulder. the snow fans across your neck, hitting a sliver of skin where your scarf doesn’t cover.

“we need to make a huge snowball,” you whisper to abby. “on it,” she nods excitedly. she’s already lined up 10 snowballs for you to use in the meantime.

“no conspiring secretly!” mike says. “we can do what we want!” you laugh, throwing another snowball, throwing it with too much force to where it lands behind him.

mike ends up using a tree as his shield. even with it’s small branches, you find it more difficult. you look down at abby, seeing a snowball half the size of your snowman.

“good job, babe,” you pat her back. “after this can i have some hot chocolate?” abby asks.

“of course. we can celebrate with it,” you grin. you look back at mike who aims a snowball at your head, knocking your beanie off. “oh, it is on.”

you and abby stand up, carrying the big ball of snow. it’s heavier than you thought it would be, but you’re hopefully that this will work.

“woah.” mike’s jaw drops. “this is really not fair. i don’t have a teammate to do that with!”

“sucks to suck i guess,” you laugh. you and abby count down and throw the snowball at mike, causing him to tumble over. it covers most of his body, his face covered in snow now. “we won!” you exclaim, high-fiving abby.

“alright, nice play guys. next time i’ll get you,” he says, dusting himself off.

“we’ll see about that,” you grin.

you three make the rest of the snowman, using a carrot for his nose and blueberries for his eyes and smile. you grab your scarf and wrap it around his neck, mike grabbing a baseball hat from his closet and putting it on the snowman’s head.

“very nice,” mike remarks. “let’s go inside. i’m so cold,” abby says, running to the door.

“yeah, i’m going to take a shower,” mike says as you all step inside.

“me too,” abby says.

you and mike let abby shower first. mike showers after her and you make all of you hot chocolate and bake some cookies in the shape of christmas cutters.

you take a quick shower after mike, more so to warm you up than anything. you pull on one of mike’s sweaters and some pj pants. when you exit the bedroom, you find abby and mike building a fort over the tv.

“good idea, guys,” you say, grabbing your mug and sipping some hot cocoa.

“can we watch a movie?” abby asks. “of course,” you nod.

abby puts on a christmas movie, laying on her stomach in front of you two. mike is laying against the bottom of the couch with you in his arms.

“mm, i’m so sleepy,” you yawn, snuggling up to his chest. “that snowball fight wear you down?” mike asks.

“unfortunately, yes. i’m surprised you’re not snoring already.”

“i do not snore.”

“oh, yes you do.”

“well, you sing in your sleep.”

“you’re making that up,” you laugh. he shakes his head. “the other night you were singing ‘crazy train’ or something.”

“that is…” you breathe out, “a lie.”

“i’ll record you next time, how about that?”

“okay. prepare to be wrong.”

he chuckles and kisses your forehead, hugging you tighter. “i love you.”

you hum and smile, reaching up and kissing his lips. “i love you more.”

————

taglist

@celestbarnes

[sugugasm]

𝟒𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄 — ft. geto suguru

· ₊ ⊹ synopsis — geto loses his virginity.

「❀」 word count ! : 2.7k

「❀」 pairing : geto x fem! reader

「❀」 content warning ! : minors do not interact, virgin killer! reader, soft dom geto, reader instructs geto :p, sort of whiny geto, pussy whipped geto, cowgirl, missionary, slight choking, blowjob, protected sex.

「❀」 author’s note ! : oh my god i’m so so excited to share this. i haven’t written anything for my bby in so long, excuse any mistakes, this hasn’t been beta read. i thought of this randomly after listening to subby asmr yes i did. so so sorry ab the ending, ik it’s rushed, but i needed to finish this </3 special thank you to @venusflytrapstar for helping my tiny writers block. ur a gem.

the majority of geto's evening seemed to be going well. your and geto’s anniversary was a success after a beautiful meal at your preferred restaurant—his treat—and a romantic stargaze in the hill where your first date occurred.

well, that is, up until the two of you made it back home.

without saying anything, you had left the room and entered the bedroom. he trails you in confusion, a twinge of anxiety in his stomach. he’d considered whether he might have upset you in some way, but as soon as he opened the door, a much more exciting surprise greeted him.

his girlfriend—you— naked.

“you look.. fucking beautiful.”

you lift your hands up to your chest, kneading your breasts in your palms as you eye his every move. geto doesn’t take his eyes off of you, his piercing gaze never leaving your own as you part your lips to speak, “and you look nervous. am i making you nervous, geto?”

you lift your hands up to your chest, kneading your breasts in your palms as you eye his every move. geto doesn’t take his eyes off of you, his piercing gaze never leaving your own as you part your lips to speak, “and you look nervous. am i making you nervous, geto?”

he swallows, “a little bit, yeah.” he laughed, masking the cracking pitch of his voice, before losing himself in thought. you were aware that he was a virgin. you knew of it months before you started dating. it’s not that he didn't want to—you were absolutely gorgeous—but he was afraid of looking like an idiot. he didn't want you to think of him as an immature, inexperienced loser.

but to him, that’s exactly what he was.

“why’re you nervous? scared you’ll cum too quick?”

well, that was one of the things on the list.

“very funny,” he utters. getting up from your position, you inch your way toward geto, pressing your bare chest against his clothed one. geto couldn’t hold back the sudden arousal sitting in his pants. his cock was practically petting your thigh, and it gave him goosebumps.

“you’re so hard. i can feel it.”

untying the draw strings of his sweatpants, you reach a hand into his boxers, rubbing and cupping his balls in your palms— heavy, “they’re so full, baby. why don’t we fix that, hm?” your question got lost in translation the minute you began to lower down onto your knees. as your skin hits the cool, wooden floor, you kiss him through his boxers. the gray fabric felt soft on your lips, but geto’s hard on simply ruined that.

geto had already reached his peak when you eventually stopped teasing him, leaving you with a stiff cock in your hand. he was big and quite girthy. pretty. his length was further defined by veins that protruded from the base all the way to the skin before his tip. geto was shuddering in your grasp, and although he was trying to shield it, you read right through him.

“god, baby. you’re so handsome like this. i should've done this a long time ago, don’t you think?” your teasing antics seemed to be successful. each syllable you spoke was accompanied by a little groan for the man above you. he had his arms resting beside him with his fist bawled in what looked like anticipation. he was waiting for you to make some sort of movement, but you wanted to take it slow tonight.

“yn, do something please,” he whines we’re humoring you. you begin to pump him at a slow pace. the pre-cum beginning to leak from his tip made the process all the more smoother, the self made lubricant giving you a boost.

“something like what? you have to use your words, geto.”

geto could almost roll his eyes at your games but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t making him fall apart. you hadn’t even stuck it in your mouth yet and he wondered how difficult it’ll be when he finally gets the chance to cram you full of him. call him a creep, but he always pondered about what it would feel like— your walls, gripping and pulling on him as you cry out his name for more, your tits bouncing with every thrust, and your body reacting to the pressure of an orgasm that he brought you too.

perfect, it would be perfect.

“in your mouth..” he finally answers. it was only a matter of time before your mouth met the tip of his cock, starting off with a slow lick to the slit. you then move to the base, kissing the skin near his shaft and moaning while doing so. geto didn’t know this, but you were getting more pleasure out of this than he was. you just couldn’t wait to see the look in his eyes when he empties himself in your mouth. and hey, depending on the playful mood you’re in, you might even tease him some more.

“you’re so pretty. so, so fuckin’ pretty.”

sappy. typical geto.

you suck on his cock as if it’s a pacifier, placing your hands on his thighs as you bob your head back and forth. the suckling sounds and your grip had geto stumbling back a bit, his hand finding the wall as he leaned back to watch you work your magic. he was as hard as a brick and your enthusiasm about it all wasn’t helping his case.

“wait, wait, wait, baby- fuck!”

you didn’t wait, you just kept going— and now, at a faster pace. you were gawking around him, your throat closing and then opening right back up again. it made everything worse when you made eye contact with him. geto was already in love, but this? this was heaven— his heaven.

“stop looking at me like that,” he mumbles, “i’ll cum soon-“

you release him to catch your breath and share a few words, “that’s the goal, baby. can you be a good boy and cum ‘f me,” you ask, swallowing him once again. as your throat grew accustomed to expanding and shutting around him, it became easier to take in more of him. with tears threatening to spill from your eye sockets, you squeezed your thumbs and did your best to get as much of him into your mouth as you could.

tiny crescent marks tainted your palms and the waterworks were rolling. geto hadn’t said a full sentence in a minute, making your eyes open to shoot him a glance.

and god, was he beautiful.

he hadn’t even gotten the chance to slip inside and he was already so sensitive. his eyebrows were furrowed, his bottom lip was sandwhiched in between his teeth, and his eyes had fallen just enough to look directly into yours. he hadn’t even realized how out of it he was.

you pull your mouth away from him to resume pumping him like earlier. with a drool covered mouth, you smile and politely say, “c’mon suguru, i know you wanna’ let it go.”

“fuck, fuuck! i do, i do. please make me cum, yn- shit!”

begging. it was exactly what you wanted to hear, and now that you’d achieved your goal, it was only right for your good boy to be rewarded, “yeah? i know you do. i can see it all over your pretty face. you’re so cute when you’re needy,” you giggle.

just then, geto started to fuck into your hand, desperate to finally unravel everything he’d composed. deciding to let him have this one, you allow him to ride out his orgasm. you’d done quite enough, and seeing him this way was much, much more entertaining.

“i’m cumming, i’m cumming. fuuuck me- yes!”

you yearned to hear more of the groans coming from his mouth. when his cries finally subsided, you rose from your knees and walked him over to the bed.

now, this was both nerve-wracking and exciting. geto didn’t really have a clue what to do other than the basics; move your hips and keep your rhythm. yes, he’d watched porn before, but those were never true to life. the actors were primarily simply doing what they do best, which is acting. all of it was a scam. the only knowledge to be attained was how to do everything incorrectly.

“i don’t know how to do this,” he blurts out, catching your attention before you could make any further movements, “i really like you- love you, actually. i don’t wanna’ fuck this shit up, y’know?”

you smile, sensitive eyes blinking up at him, “you won’t, trust me. you have an excellent teacher,” you smirk and take your place on the mattress. he was angsty, but he trusted you, and he wouldn’t do anything he wasn’t comfortable with— you wouldn’t allow him to.

you smile, sensitive eyes blinking up at him, “you won’t, trust me. you have an excellent teacher,” you smirk and take your place on the mattress. he was angsty, but he trusted you, and he wouldn’t do anything he wasn’t comfortable with— you wouldn’t allow him to.

he suddenly feels your cool hands cover his cock with a condom. he would’ve surely appreciated a fair warning before hand, because the same rush he felt earlier had returned and so did his boner. “can you take your shirt off for me?” you ask, patting the mattress for him to take a seat soon after. “i don’t want you to do all the work,” he whines, joking you and resting his head against your pink pillow.

“it’s your first time. it’s okay to be a pillow princess.”

“take that back, for real.”

after sharing a laugh, the time finally comes. your pink acrylics wrap around geto’s cock and you feel him flinch at your touch. your hands were still cold, but your pussy would be warming him up soon.

“fuck, geto. look at you, fitting right in, baby.”

putting him inside wasn't difficult, but keeping him inside would surely be challenging. despite how much of a godsend it was, you were just so wet. it was just so sexy seeing him in this position. surely you enjoyed being tossed around occasionally, but controlling a man's orgasm had a distinct quality to it.

“shit, princess.” geto’s hands hold on to your hips as you slowly begin to glide up and down his cock. you started with just the tip first, getting him used to your walls. you were trying your best not to squeeze him too hard, but it was difficult not to.

although it was just the tip, it was driving you absolutely crazy, “how do i feel, suguru?” you ask, hands grazing his chest and shoulders as you gradually accept more of him inside of you. your tits we’re hanging so prettily in his face, nipples harder than ever. the urge to shove one in his mouth came over you quickly but was soon suppressed. you wanted him to make progress on his own.

“so good. s-so motherfuckin’ good,” he groans and it was almost like he read your mind. to your surprise, geto latches his mouth on to one of your breasts. his tongue swirled around your nipple as he sucked and tugged on it like it was his last meal.

and he couldn’t show favorites.

moving his hands from your hips, he cups your tits and his hands and kneads either. sucking on one while massaging the other, “keep going,” he utters, letting go to take a breath, “keep fuckin’ me, just like that.”

that caused you to show out now, your hips rotating in circles as you threw your ass back— now slamming you down onto him a bit harder, “just like this?”

“yes, baby- fuck!” he closes his eyes and wraps his arms around your waist. kisses are placed on your neck and chest before geto quickly buries his head between your tits. his man-bun was starting to fall apart, and so was he. you start to feel geto pulse inside of you and you knew he’d be cumming soon.

“you wanna’ cum? hm? it’s okay, suguru. i know i’m making you feel so good. it’s alright to let go.”

only then did he start to thrust upward to mirror the motion of your hips. his cock was now hitting the sweet spot much more quickly thanks to your power and his combined, “i wanna’ cum, pretty girl. please make me c-cum,” he chants several pleas as he slams your hips down onto his lap. he was more than just needy, he was desperate.

he was so close and you were bouncing on his cock like it was life or death. it became impossible for him to hold back from the buildup. geto hardly gave you a chance to speak before taking the plunge to pin you down. he needed to fuck you, and he was completely bottoming out. while he was shifting positions, he was too greedy to stop. you could still feel him pushing into your cunt even while in the process of laying you against the sheets.

“suguru- baby, you were so close-“

it was his first time and all, and maybe pleasuring him for the night was your goal, but he couldn’t help himself. you looked too good, and you felt even better. you’d already given him an enormous about of pleasure, now it was your turn.

“just let me fuck you, baby. i promise i’ll give it to you right, please open up ‘f me.”

you didn’t know where the wave of confidence came from, but you definitely didn’t hate it. his sensual, yet assertive manner had you ready to submit already, “if you need any help i’ll be right here to- oh fuck!”

your words were abruptly cut short when geto sent you a hard stroke. it was like he already knew exactly where to poke at, “shit, baby. wrappin’ around me like a glove,” he states, keeping a steady eye on your facial expressions.

your expressions were creased with both pleasure and anguish. geto gave you strong, prolonged thrusts that caused the mattress beneath you to squeak, as if forgetting how enormous he was already. your entire body was rocking at the same rhythm of the your skin slapping against one another’s.

“s-suguru, ‘s so deep..inside m-me,” you stutter, lifting your head to look at him continuously fuck you dumb. he was chasing his orgasm and yours, hoping to be able to finish with your cream coating his dick till you had nothing left to give.

“you’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you? letting me fuck you like this to get myself off, but you wanna’ cum too, don’t you?”

you could do nothing more than nod in agreement while biting your bottom lip. by watching his cock move in and out of you, you were nearly put into a trance. more of your essence spilled onto him with each retraction he made.

“‘m gonna’ cum, suguru. i love you- love your dick s-so much.” slurring your speech made it seem as though geto was performing much better than he believed he was. with his hand raised to your neck and a light pressure applied to the side near your ear, geto, whose orgasm was trailing closely behind your own, was making eye contact with you.

he could feel your small hand hold on to his wrist for support. he was fucking you enough to make your eyes cross, whimpers broken just enough to arouse him some more, “m’ cumming, daddy. ‘m cumming-fuck! yess, ooh!”

he spilled everything he had into the condom after hearing the nickname, which was more than enough for him. the warm liquids could still be felt in your stomach even though he wasn't precisely filling you.

“fuuuck, yn. i fuckin’ love you. so much, pretty girl, so much.” hurrying his head into your shoulder, he continues to fuck you until you’re ready to cum again.

and you do.

you felt completely drained, not only from the hard work from earlier, but from geto’s cock basically wringing out all of the cum you could produce. geto pulled out and left a smile on your face, “not too bad for a virgin, huh?”

you smile, “not too bad. not too bad at all.

©️ SUUNMIC 2023

tags : @venusflytrapstar @hiraizens @ryujnn @takemichiluvr

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Bucky with a beard and eyeliner. Steve can’t. keep. his. hands. to. himself.

(not at all inspired by what I’m currently thinking. No sir)

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

What kind of eyeliner, though-?

No, this isn't just an excuse to look at Seb in makeup. What do you mean?

Like, we have options:

War paint?

Femme fatal?

Witch?

Which witch?

Rockstar guyliner?

I'm always trying to go in order of writing from oldest to newest, and this ask is so new, but... I can't fucking resist talking about this exactly now, so... have a variety of ideas based on these different eyeliner styles:

War paint

Ever after since the first glimpse Steve has of the ghost Natasha told him about, the ghost haunts Steve's nightly dreams. They're not... bad dreams, though, so perhaps "haunt" is the wrong word. It's just that the ghost won't fucking leave the walls of his mind.

Steve can't tell, yet, if he loves it or hates it--having his subconscious entirely focused on the single moment he's had thus far, face-to-face with the ghost. It depends on when he's caught, if he'd say he loves or loathes it. Is it so late at night that it's actually early morning or is it in the sobering light of day?

It's just that he was so fucking striking.

All wrapped in leather and darkness, as wild as a dare thought up by hot, young blood after too many drinks and rowdy, saucy questions of truth. His inky black head-to-toe uniform, his long, deeply colored cascading hair, his concealing muzzle, and, in dizzying contrast, his striking, light eyes made all the more alluring due to the paint messily defining them.

Something about him, if he weren't a walking danger, feels as if he walked directly off a runway. Untouchable but so fucking desirable.

Especially his eyes. They're cold and callous yet, deep down, so alluringly familiar. Steve can't pin it down, but something about them draws him in. He has questions and no answers, which is all too much for Steve; he is nothing if not recklessly curious, and if he were a cat, he'd be dead nine times over.

Steve wants to see those eyes close up. He wants to see how they glint in low light. He longs to see emotion reflected in them. He wants to know what it's like to see his dark lashes get heavy and his pupils swallow up that steel-blue color. He wants--

He wants and he can't have.

So, his subconscious has latched onto the ghost with his captivating, secretive existence slipping through Steve's fingers like sand and leaving him with just a few grains.

He clutches onto the grit, waking him up in the middle of the night again and again. His chest is heaving in the pale moonlight when he comes to--his baby pink nipples peaking through his white t-shirt, turned transparent with how much he's sweating, shoved up nearly all the way to the swell of his pecs, bunched up beneath his armpits, exposes his abs that clench as he continues to pant and struggle for enough oxygen to feed the fire burning inside him. His thighs are spread wide beneath mused sheets. The image of those eyes staring down at him hangs over Steve. They glint with interest--a cat toying with a mouse--nearly the same color as the cold, sharp blade of a knife and pressing against Steve with the same intensity.

Steve gasps on his next panting inhale, short of breath. He's feverish. He's burning up. He doesn't remember what the ghost was on the cusp of doing to him in his dreams. It doesn't matter. He doesn't need anything more than the arousal throbbing through his sleep-vulnerable body and his hot, shaking fist.

After pulling down his boxers, it hardly takes five, six pulls before he's biting his lip to smother a ragged, pent-up moan, painting himself white, picturing those damn eyes, contrasted by dark black paint.

Oh, god.

With his orgasm draining from his slack, limp body, Steve is so fucking confused. He doesn't even know why this keeps happening to him! He's confused and guilty and exhausted. There's no fucking reason he should be this fucked up by the ghost, but he is.

He is.

He can't stay away from him, dreaming of him, his eyes, but also everything about him. The cold, smooth leather of his uniform and his metal arm against Steve's furnace hot, bare skin while he stares down at him; the thick, hot plunge and pull of his cock inside him, fucking him on his back, between his legs, rutting it out missionary so he can glare down at Steve (and maybe wrap that metal arm around his throat while he's at it); the rasp of his jaw (Steve doesn't know if he's clean-shaven under that mask, fully bearded, or just with stubble, but he fucking wants to find out) against Steve's naked, slick cheeks as he eats him out viciously, his eyes never breaking their gaze while Steve struggles to not let his own roll back into his skull. Ngh. Steve can't stop. All he thinks about is the ghost and his captivating eyes, emboldened by all that black paint.

Femme fatal

Steve has been consumed by the precarious sensation of being suspended on an exceedingly thin layer of ice above a normally strongly churning body of water. Just a paper-thin layer of frozen water between his life and death, and he's straining his ears to hear any possibly cracks under his feet. Or, perhaps, really, he's already plunged through and has been pulled out by a good samaritan bystander, but now, as a result, he doesn't trust the ground beneath his feet, whether it's ice, permafrost, or concrete. He will walk on eggshells for hours to come.

Either way, the sensation is due to the miraclous fact that Bucky is here.

Home.

He's standing in Steve's apartment's bathroom, dressed down from the decrepit uniform he's been living in day after day on the run from HYDRA, putting himself back together piece by piece, to a pair of borrowed sweatpants and a loose t-shirt that hangs open around his neck, exposing his sharp collarbones.

He's without his suffocating mask now, lost to the rubble of the past and freshly shaven, leaving a mess of hair in the sink. He's brushed his hair and washed most of the grime and paint from his face. It's just the barest layer of darkness around his eyes now, dragging Steve's gaze irrevocably to his pale blue irises. Even through the mirror, hesitantly shadowing him, he can't stop staring.

Bucky was always a looker, the Bucky Steve remembers.

This Bucky is every bit as alluring. Steve can't stop himself from admiring him, especially now that he's within touching distance. He's vowed to himself that he won't do anything, not until Bucky's ready but...

As Bucky runs a washcloth over his entirely too handsome face one last time and locks his eyes onto Steve's through the mirror...

It can't be helped.

It can't be helped the way Bucky whirls around quickly and lunges forward into Steve's space. His mismatched fists suddenly curl into Steve's t-shirt while his wild eyes search Steve's. And, in response, Steve lets himself open, trusting him implicitly. Whatever he wants. And, for himself, he lets all his wants, all his hopes pour into his eyes--baring his soul to Bucky. This new, raw version of long lost lover, letting him see it all.

And that's all it takes.

Bucky is barely an inch away from him, and it makes the impact that much more intense after he reads the look in his eyes, words passing silently between them. It's blunt. Point-blank range.

Their lips collide harshly. Ravenously.

Instantaneously, Steve's whole body can't help but go limp, giving up the fight and welcoming the vicious claim that Bucky is laying on him, pressing bodily against him, forcing Steve back against the wall, consuming him, his tongue in Steve's mouth, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and his growl of hunger vibrating into Steve's chest, igniting his own hunger again, adding to the flames. He's desperate. They both are.

Steve's head is spinning. He clings to Bucky, hands on his shoulders, willing Bucky to never let him go again. He needs him.

He needs him here.

He needs him inside him.

Bucky knows.

And he's wrapping himself around Steve like a boa constrictor curls around its first kill in months. Starved and desperate. Throbbing with blood lust like never before. Primal hunger.

Steve whimpers into his mouth. He has no air in his burning lungs, but he can't bear to break away, especially not when Bucky does. He takes just a mere second, yet still too long, to spit lewdly onto his fingers and then draw Steve's pants down, breaching him with his fingertips in a way that burns and hurts but still feels so good. It feels like everything he's been missing. It's raw and painful, but Steve needs it to hurt. He needs it to be sharp so he can be sure it's real.

It's so fucking real as Bucky prys his tight muscles open and loose, and carves a place for himself inside Steve.

Where he belongs.

Inside Steve.

Bucky fucks him like an animal, smashing Steve into the bathroom wall, rattling the towel racks and cracking plaster, making Steve scream behind clenched teeth--it feels so fucking unbearably good. Hot. Steve is lost to the sensation of being fucked. He's whole again. He's crying. Sobbing. Shaking so badly that he can hardly cling to Bucky, his legs wrapped around his waist, his arms slung around his shoulders and neck, his body tight and wet with spit around his cock.

He missed him so bad.

He missed him so bad he thought he was going to die of heartbreak. He thinks he's going to die again now, but he's going to die because he can die a satisfied man now. He's so full.

He's blinded with white-hot, agonizing pleasure.

He's shooting off untouched between their heaving, feverish bodies and crying, begging for Bucky to keep going when he pauses, thinking Steve too overstimulated to continue.

No, no, no! Please! Keep going! More!More!More! You have to! Need it!

So, Bucky does. He goes and goes and fuckd until he's cumming and crying too. The last of the black around his eyes smears and spreads down his cheeks in streaks that Steve desperately laps up with his tongue. He wants him. All of him. He needs it. Every fucking bit--salty tears, tattered memories, and old scarred over wounds.

Jesus Christ.

He's home.

Witch

Shockingly, the thing that wakes Steve up is not the splitting throb of his headache as agitated by the rising sun or chirping birds, the bone dryness of his mouth, or the regret (or embarrassment, depending on how you look at it) he certainly should be feeling after letting himself get talked into a completely unnecessary drinking game despite his non-college-years age. What does wake him up, however, is the grumbles of someone else in his bed.

Bucky.

When he cracks one eye open, then the other, tracking the source of the noise, Steve finds that it's Bucky.

Who else would it be anyway? A dog pile of all his hangover-nursing friends on the floor of his apartment? A stranger? A couple of strangers? Nah. Just Bucky.

It's always Bucky.

And Bucky is pretending to be asleep still despite having woken up to his own post-halloween-party hangover, grumbling to himself and burrowing deeper into his pillow. His pillow that, yikes, Steve thinks to himself, wincing, will need to be washed once they've both washed down painkillers and soaked up the leftover festive-flavored, too-strong of alcohol with a greasy brunch.

That pillowcase will have to be washed thoroughly on account of the makeup slathered all across Bucky's face. The face of makeup was a part of their festivities. Now, it's s smeared and rubbed all around his face, a powdery white foundation emphasizing red lips, darkly lined but brightly shadowed eyes, and thin yet expressive eyebrows--he was a magician for Halloween this year.

(Steve narrowly avoided being his assistant bunny and would've been if he hadn't worked up some resistance to Bucky's puppydog eyes by now. He's not immune. No one could be. But after so many years, he's got to be a little bit resistant in him.)

Regardless, Bucky looks silly in the sobering (ha) morning light. He's sleepy, and his makeup is still, somewhat on, it's just moved around all his face or been buffed into his skin. Yet...

Steve blinks blearily, trying to push the thought--the feeling away as it rears its head within him.

Unfortunately, though, when his vision clears again, nope, it's still there.

That feeling.

What should just be a goofy, funny look in Bucky's dorky, handsome face isn't. It's that, yeah, but it's more, too, because in his sleep, Bucky's beard has started to grow back in, the stubble on his jaw pushing through his makeup to announce itself. It's a fucking a shadow that calls to Steve darkly, bringing up shivers all across his skin, and whispering to him reminders of what it's like to kiss Bucky first thing upon waking up...

The morning breath is more than worth it in exchange for Bucky's rough, unshaven face scraping against his jaw and turning Steve red and raw. He's likes the feeling. More than likes. All that roughness against him makes him feel delicate and small and ravished by comparison. It adds just that much--that extra sensitivity--to the hot, smearing kisses that Bucky will inevitably paint thickly from the corner of his lips down to his jaw and farther onto his throat, his collarbones, and ending up at his chest with his lips and tongue so lush and sweet and his teeth so mean.

That god-fucking-damn stubble has Steve craving Bucky.

He wants its roughness against him.

He wants those lips on his.

He wants Bucky's tongue in his mouth, claiming him.

He wants Bucky's groans against him, vibrating and so deep, and he wants his own moans to be swallowed down by Bucky, taking them deep inside his body.

He wants Bucky to talk to him, to tell him how pretty and innocent he looks in his sleep, how he wouldn't mind if he'd go back to sleep so he could have his way with him anyway he wants... it's not like Steve helps out anyway, pillow princess motherfucker, so he might as well go limp and snooze through their fucking. Right, sweetheart?

Steve whimpers out loud at his own train of thought, spacing out while staring too intently at Bucky, hyper-focused on his jaw. On the stubble right there. So fucking close.

He wants him.

And, Jesus, with the makeup, he'd really make a mess of Steve, now wouldn't he? He'd be red from his stubble against Steve's smooth skin, and he'd be red from the lipstick and--

Exactly then, Bucky's eyes slide open. Any trace of annoyance that'd be expected from his grumbling and pillow nuzzling is gone, replaced with intrigue. He's been hearing Steve's thoughts loud and fucking clear apparently and just decided to pop in to see what mischief he can make of them. What kind of mess can he make of Steve?

Shit, though. Wait.

--stubble and lipstick aside, Steve is unprepared for those eyes to open because, shit, his eyes look so, so fucking blue. Bluer then he remembers from last night (most of which is a blur anyway, thank you drunk Steve who's only goal is to get drunker to piss of morning, sober Steve) thanks to their smudged charcoal lining. It's the perfect contrast.

And Steve can't move. He's been caught staring, pinned like a butterfly to a cork board beneath that stare. Any more heat and he'll burn up, an insect underneath a magnifying glass in the sun.

"Good dreams, punk?" Bucky raises his eyebrows at him, a slow, thick grin spreading over his bowed mouth.

Steve licks his lips, his gaze dropping in embarrassment but really just catching an eye full of Bucky's sinful mouth, "something like that." He answers in a sleep-rough voice.

Gah.

Why is he such a fucking sucker for everything about Bucky? He's so weak!

Witch 2

College theater major Bucky backstage for his latest production, Steve's an art major, he's been roped into painting part of the set, making out in props closet, handjobs over clothes, making out until their lips are swollen and raw

Steve never imagined as an art major that he would get roped into the performing arts. He's always been a visual artist, not a performing artist. There's a big fucking difference. Yes, both types of art. Both creative. Both are valid. But, Jesus Christ, they couldn't be more different in Steve's mind. He's comfortable in visual art and incredibly passionate about it, but if he's asked to perform art? He would tell that person to go fuck themselves. The thought of being on stage like that? No. He would shit a brick.

So... yeah, it's unclear even to himself how the hell he's gotten himself into the theater at his college. It's just happened. He's here. And, against all odds, he's fucking thrilled he's here. Painting background sets for the student productions is fun, but that's not what is so enticing. That is all due to Bucky.

Bucky is a theater major.

The first theater kid that Steve's had the pleasure of interacting with beyond surface level and...

Pleasure sure as shit is the right fucking word. Because, as it turns out, all the jokes about theater kids? Yeah. They're true. At least, they're true for Bucky. Outrageously flamboyant and queer and horny.

Just during just the latest production cycle, Steve has (a) never been better fucked and (b) gotten to cross various locations off his sex bucket list thanks to that fucking horny twink who can most often found in a character's costume with theater makeup swiped across his face, emphasizing his pouty lips and big, blue-grey eyes.

The props closet? Check.

The dressing room? Check.

On the actual stage? Check.

In the auditorium seating? Check.

Jesus Christ, he can't get over it, he has never been better fucked then he is when immersed in Bucky's world of performing arts. He should've done this in high school. Oof.

The props closet was during the stretch of rehearsals where Bucky's character isn't needed. So, he doesn't have any real reason to be out on stage or around the edges of the stage in the shadows. Like. He should be around and not wander too far away. But he doesn't technically have to be. And the props closet isn't too far!

So, why not pile into the tight confines of the overflowing prop closet? Why not slam the door behind them and try to keep it down because they aren't that far and no one wants their chill, acting headspace to be ruined by Steve's pitchy groans while Bucky goes down on him, using that fucking soft, pretty mouth for evil? It's fucking fun.

It's great.

Bucky's mouth is so good. Like, illegally hot. He deep throats like a fucking champ and swallows and hums and can do things with his tongue that make Steve go cross-eyed. He can do all that and still look up at Steve, composed as ever.

Of course, staring up at him with that signature eyeliner ringed around his eyes, making them appear bigger and darker--better to see from the audience and even better to see close up.

Jesus.

Steve loses it way, way too fast--like it's embarrassing--shooting down Bucky's throat and stifling his guttural sounds of pleasure by biting into his fist so hard he tastes blood. It's bad now, and it's gonna be worse when he has to watch Bucky swagger out onto stage to perform with puffy, swollen, red lips. Naturally acting like there's nothing going on. It's all innocent. He always looks like this.

Fucked-out.

The dressing room was a rush between scene changes. Like, the props closet was a quickie--slamming doors, giggling, moaning urgently into fiery kisses, bumping noses, fumbling hands, and all--but if the props closet was a lower-case quickie than the dressing room is a quickie with a capital Q.

Bucky fucking shoves him inside the dressing room, pushing him roughly, hands squeezing at his waist and digging into his shoulders. No nonsense. Just down to fucking business. Fucking business. Ripping off his costume for a quick change, already half-naked before the door even clicks shut behind them, and bending himself over the closest piece of furniture.

Yeahhh, he's horny as shit.

He's so fucking hopped up on adrenaline and desperation that his hands are quivering as he spreads his shapely cheeks apart to show Steve where he's all clenchy and achy. Steve is fucking dying to get his tongue on him. Bucky is dying to have his tongue on him. They're a fucking sick pair. Wicked and dirty and depraved.

The second the door is shut and they're aa alone as they can be with thin walls and a thin door, Steve eats him out with fervor--shoving his tongue all up in there, lapping at his hole, sucking on his heavy balls, biting at the fat of his ass, and moaning against his salty skin because he's sweaty from baking underneath the stage lights and that should be gross but it really isn't. He tastes good. Hot. He tastes like a fucking man. He tastes like Steve wants to fucking keep going.

He could eat him out for hours. Days. If only he had the fucking time.

They don't have time right now because it can't be more than a handful of moments of heaven, not even seven minutes, before Bucky is getting his trembling legs underneath himself and shoving Steve off of him. He's fucking terrible.

God, Steve wants him so much. He wants a piece of him. He wants all pieces of him. He wants to consume him. Have him. Jesus Christ, he's so horny, too. They both are. They're freaks.

Good.

Bucky smirks over his shoulder at him, but that's the only thing Steve gets before he's a blur, throwing himself back into clothes, different clothes this time, neatly tucking his erection up out of the way and tearing out the door to go back on stage.

He leaves Steve wanting.

Desperate.

Steve is breathless as he rushes out, unable to get a full lungul of air in. All he can do is lick his lips and moan low in his throat, aching for more as if he's the one who's just had a tongue up his ass.

This is unfair. It's evil.

He's not sure which of them is worse off: Bucky on stage with something to focus on, freshly physically pleasured and hard, or Steve without anything to do but agonize over how much he wants to eat Bucky alive. They're both denied. Aching. Strung out. They're both going to claw desperately at each other with the next quick change. Bucky's not going to cum that time either.

He's not gonna cum during any of their quick changes. Quickie quick changes. He's not gonna cum until they get back to Bucky's or Steve's dorm. It's just gonna wind up and up and up. Edging. Sharpening. It will be delicious, the final release.

Woof.

The actual stage was after hours, everyone gone, the space totally clear, just them and enough space to really fucking spread out.

Bucky spread eagle.

Steve over top of him.

Bucky deeply arching his throat and back and just letting himself feel all of it. All the pleasure. Spreading his legs wider as if he can spread any wider, get sluttier. He can't get any more needy. More wanton. His moans are fucking ragged, so deep and sharp that his entire fucking chest heaves as he struggles to breathe.

Steve sweats and groans as he fucks, animal, smothering his sounds in Bucky's shoulder. He's so close to sinking his teeth into him. God. He's trying to be smooth, but he's not. There's too much arousal to be found in lying across the stage. He can't be smooth.

He's losing it.

Groaning louder, breathing harder, soaking in being naked and in the limelight where he can put Bucky on display. Every gorgeous fucking inch of him. His sweat glistening skin, his heaving chest and hard nipples, his curved, heavy cock, jis spread thighs, his open, wet hole, his quivering, tensing muscles, his slack face.

His pleasure.

All of him.

Every glorious inch deserves to be worshipped and displayed. Lavished with lust-dripping attention. Placed on a pedestal for all eyes to see, but no one else can touch. Just Steve.

Only Steve on stage with him, divesting him of everything but his bare, raw needs. Stripping him down to his bones. He's perfect and too much.

Steve can't hold on for another moment, hitting his orgasm head-on and biting harshly into Bucky as he finishes inside him, knowing he'll wear the mark on his neck proudly. That big fucking hickey. Dark and obvious. High on his throat. On him like an anniversary gift--a beautiful necklace. His Bucky. Displaying himseld. His sweet mouth twisted up, watching people blush at him and feeling it light him up inside with smoldering coals, aching to do it again.

Steve fucking loves how much of a slut and attention whore Bucky can be. It's fucking ideal. There's never been anything hotter.

Well... maybe there's been one thing hotter...

The auditorium seating was also after hours without anyone else around to get in their way, leaving them to get tangled up and fucked out, drunk off of each other.

Bucky, the little minx, had pulled Steve into the empty audience, pretending they were ready to leave and finally get outta there. He wasn't ready to leave, though. Nah. Of course, not.

Instead of leaving, Bucky shoved Steve down into a random fucking seat and unbuckled his belt to slide his jeans down his legs--only doing the work that absolutely had to be done to get his cock out. Steve had no choice but to shiver, suddenly heart-racingly exposed and cold. He didn't stay cold for long.

First, his dick was stuffed down Bucky's throat. A fucking sudden flash of hottightwetgood. There and gone. Then, Bucky rose up off his knees and slithered into his lap, making himself right at home.

Shit.

Apparently, through the whole fucking practice, he was wearing a buttolug because... why not? It's Bucky. He does whatever the fuck he wants. And what he wants is always what feels good.

Slut.

The look on his face is more than good--sweet, slack, and heated like chocolate on a triple digit temperature summer day--as he doesn't just sit in his lap but bounce.

Steve couldn't give a fuck about the buttplug or the shock of how long he's been wearing it. He couldn't give less of a fuck about where the toy ended up. All he can care about is how Bucky's body is eating him up. Swallowing him whole. He's so fucking hot inside. So wet, too. He's clenching, throbbing, around him and it feels too fucking good to be true.

It's unbearably hot.

Bucky writhing, bouncing, and arching in his lap, holding on so tightly to the arms of the folding theater chair they're in that the plastic creaks. It doesn't fucking matter. Nothing can matter but this. And it's cause Bucky is throwing his head back with the pleasure inhibiting his body, finally stuffed full with cock after hours of inadequate silicone, and projecting his voice to echo throughout the entire goddamn theater. It's like he wants someone to break in and find them, following his all too obvious, too obscene sounds.

His moans are loud and needy and so fucking erotic that it makes Steve glad he's sitting down, more than a little afraid that if they were in any other position, he'd have started to shake and maybe even collapse under the weight of those moans. He sounds good taking cock how he wants it, bouncing fast and grinding deep as he fists himself greedily.

He's desperate.

How long has he been this desperate?

How can Steve make sure he's always this desperate?

'Cause this is certainly as good as it gets. Bucky is putting on a whole goddamn production just for him. But, it's sincere. This isn't an acting production. This is real. He needs this. He loves this. And all Steve's gotta do it sit here and melt, too close to the crackling inferno that is Bucky taking what he needs. He needs a lot. Steve barely needs anything but Bucky's hot clenching body and he's ready to cum embarrassingly quickly.

Christ.

Guyliner

Steve never, ever fucking expected himself to fall for a random ass guy in whatever bar in the middle of the town that he expected to leave immediately after turning 18, but didn't, with the guy straight up telling him that he was just here for the night, crushing drinks, and about to bounce... forever, hitting the road in his beat-up touring van.

Although, Steve never expected that guy to be hot as hell, smooth talking and too charming, looking even hotter behind his drum kit because. Yeah. Who would've guessed that Steve would end up a groupie?

Steve would've been the last person to think that of himself, not that there's anything wrong with being a groupie, it's just... not him. And, sure, he's less a groupie and more boyfriend to that hot as fuck, charming drummer, Bucky, but still.

How'd he get here?

How'd he get here, reclining back on his shitty, saggy sofa clinging one-handed to his phone tuned to a livestream of his drummer boyfriend's band and the other hand wrapped around his cock? His legs are sprawled into a wide manspread, giving himself room to work, his spine is anything but straight as he slouches into the worn-out springs and cushions, and his eyes are glued to every blurry pixel of the stream. He's fucking starstruck, watching too close. He's starstruck all the time. Every time he sees Bucky again after a stint on the road, every time he sees him perform through a screen, and especially every time he sees him perform in person. How did Steve make it his whole fucking life up until meeting Bucky without realizing that the drums are sexy?

Everything about Bucky is sexy. Everything about his instrument is sexy. Everything about Bucky playing his instrument is sexy.

He's on stage, in his own spotlight, in his element just beating the shit out of his kit. Slamming his feet and rallying his arms and heaving his chest to breathe through the sweat. And, fuck, is he sweating. Steve has been watching the entire show, deeply, animally reveling the way he's gone from composed to glistening to melting. Sweatier and sweatier with his muscles fucking rippling, using his entire body, getting into it. There's pure fucking passion etched across his face.

When the camera zoom-cuts to him, focusing fully on Bucky for the part of the song that is all drumming, Steve holds his breath in anticipation. He knows what's coming. He's gonna--

YES! Steve's heart pounds in his chest 'cause he fucking nails it. He's a well-oiled machine up there, on stage, doing what he does best.

Dun! Dun! Dundundun! Dun!

He hits every fucking beat and even has time to throw his sticks into the air, catching them without even fucking looking. It's effortless. It's fucking magnetic. Steve doesn't need to be in the room having his ears blasted to feel it rattling around his ribs. And, shit, seeing the way he kills it, the look he has on his face, the rhythm of his body...

It does Steve in.

He whimpers, tightening his grip around his dick. It should be embarrassing, jerking off to nothing but live music and getting off so hard, but, Jesus, he can't be embarrassed. He can't be anything but hot.

Bucky is so outrageously hot.

Every time the camera cuts to him, he's hotter.

Hotter. Sweatier. And getting to the fucking point where his makeup is melting off of his pretty face. His eyeliner running down from around his eyes the way it does when he lets Steve fuck him in the back of the tour bus after a show, riding high on adrenaline from performing, and crying with how good it feels.

Pure relief.

Fucked so good.

That big, bad drummer up there on stage reduced to a crying, overwhelmed mess beneath Steve. It's no secret amongst fans that Bucky is model hot--movie star hot and Steve knows too many of those fans would kill to fuck Bucky, just one night.

So, the knowledge that he's the only one that gets to have him? Shit. That is what leaves him riding high. He doesn't need a big performance in front of thousands of fans to get him there. He just needs the performance saved for behind closed doors, giving it to just one person.

Giving it good.

Yet, the livestream is not enough. It's enough to get Steve off, but, Jesus Christ, it's not enough. He wants to be there.

He desperately needs to be there so they can fuck nasty in his bunk on the tour bus, in whatever hotel room he's put up in, in the venue dressing room, everywhere. Anywhere. He just wants to fuck him. He wants those smeared eyeliner eyes peaking up at him salaciously between his thighs while he gives him beard burn, sucking him off. He wants--

They don't switch often when Bucky's on the road, generally the full-body workout of drumming night after night leaves him too weak to do much but let Steve fuck him until his brain leaks out of his ears but... God, with so many weeks of separation between them, Steve doesn't care about what's realistic. He's just hungry. He's starved. And he wants those fingers inside him--fingerless gloves on.

Further, the depraved thought of Bucky's drumsticks inside him cross Steve's frantic, messy head. He wants them. He needs Bucky's fucking drumsticks in him. Deep, deep inside him and beating him up deliciously like he hits his kit. Bucky can make music with him, making him moan and whimper and gasp.

Anything.

Steve needs anything but his own fucking fist. He's going insane.

He needs his goddamn rockstar, crazy hot boyfriend.

He just can't fucking deal with it. It's been so long since they've been together in person. Steve's so pent up. And it's to the point that his fantasies don't make a lick of sense anymore, firing through his head so urgently, boiling up and over and making him cum hard with the cheers for an encore ringing in his ears, tinny through his phone speakers.

Yeah... yeah, one isn't enough for when he's strung-out like this. Maybe he needs an encore, too...

Steve's eyelids drop shut, squeezing himself and shivering all over with the oversensitivity.

Yeah.

He's still hard.

(I kinda forgot about the beard for a lot of this 😅 but hopefully, it was still worth it, lol!)

[st-juliet]

Utmost Merit, Part IV

Character: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes

Summary: Sherlock presents the Reader with a most unconventional proposal.

Content: Absolutely 18+ for very very very filthy language, smut with minimal plot, purposely unprotected sex, breeding kink, spouses-to-lovers, discussions of pregnancy, and some period-typical gender roles, but nothing unkind or insidious.

Notes: It’s finally here. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your patience. I love this story and I promise there are a few more chapters in store! And now,  the usual formalities: I prefer giving a name to the Reader rather than using Y/N, but I hope you will make the appropriate substitutes in your imagination. Your kind comments and reblogs are so, so appreciated…please don’t hesitate to reply or send me a message with your feedback if you enjoy!

Previous Chapters: Part I Part II Part III

Your wedding is exquisite.

Sherlock seems almost giddy throughout the entirety of the proceedings, the frosty exterior melted away to reveal the secret romantic beneath. He makes his vows with solemnity in his tone and a smile in his eyes, and you do the same, and confine yourself to a chaste kiss when all you want is to be instantly at home, alone, abed, with your gorgeous, virile husband buried deep inside you. You hope that your flaming cheeks are presumed to be the result of modesty, rather than insatiable lust for the Great Detective, who looks especially, ravishingly handsome in his wedding attire—especially when he raises your hand to his lips for another innocent show of public affection, but meets your eyes across the sparkling diamond on your finger, blue orbs glittering with a sinful promise of the night to come.

It does not help your wild desires to watch your guests with their children, from the gaggle of racing teenagers who pilfer sweets and play at acting grown-up to the littlest guests fussing in their miniature finery. Particularly enrapturing is your cousin’s newborn: a plump, cheery little creature who summarily steals all attention, including yours. Sherlock traces your gaze to the source of your longing looks, makes his excuses to his brother and sister, and returns to your side to draw you close, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

“Don’t fret, Mrs. Holmes,” he murmurs softly, carefully keeping his expression pleasant, neutral, though his tone could not be more lascivious. “You’ll have one of your own soon enough. Have we managed it already, do you think? You do glow like a proper angel today.”

“I hope so,” you whisper back, smiling at your shared secret and trying to contain a shiver as his fingertips trace circles on the curve of your waist.

“Of course it will be weeks before we know for certain,” he muses, all the while nodding pleasantly at the friends and relations who raise their glasses or smile in your direction. “So don’t think I’ll be the slightest bit satisfied to wait and see. Perish the thought; you’ll be on your back and on your knees and on my lap every chance I get this fortnight. You’ll feel me every step you take, if I let you out of bed at all—”

“You absolutely must stop!” you exclaim, flushing scarlet at his wicked whispers, but you both know that you can hardly wait for him to start making good on each and every promise. He lifts your chin to look into your eyes, as much tenderness as lust glowing in in the deep, heart-stopping blue of his gaze.

“You absolutely must understand: I never thought to know happiness like this. You give me such a gift, Rosamund.”

“I will try,” you avow, a little hesitancy in your voice, for the first time truly considering that nothing in life is guaranteed.

Sherlock of course can practically read your thoughts, and he holds you even tighter, and says quietly, almost shyly, “Even…even if fate determines that we shall have no children, your companionship is itself a bounty of which I can only endeavor to be worthy.”

Then he kisses you fully on the lips, eliciting laughter and cheers from your gathered friends, and soon enough you are in your carriage—passionately kissing every available inch of one another, with Sherlock’s hand working dexterously under your skirts, from the moment the door closes until the driver announces your arrival at your new, shared home. You make yourselves barely presentable in time to greet your servants with gifts and coins and an all-to-earnest plea that they all take the rest of the night off…and then you are alone again.

“Where were we, Mrs. Holmes?” he asks, with feigned innocence and a boyish grin that prove just as seductive as his usual growls and smirks. You leap upon him at once, and he laughs, snatching you up and tossing you onto the bed you will henceforth share, laid out with fresh, sweetly-scented blankets. Urgency fades into comfort and calmness as he strips layer upon layer of wedding finery from your body, stopping to savor the scent of your perfume in the hollow of your throat and worshiping at your waist, pressing his lips along your abdomen with an adoring whisper.

“What a beautiful mother you’ll make,” he muses, addressing the hypothetical promise that well could already be blossoming within you. “I think we must have a girl first, don’t you, darling? An Ivy or Lily to complement my lovely Rose…”

A sentiment more romantic has never been heard, in your opinion, and you tug at his curls to draw him back up for a long, lingering kiss. He presses the whole of his body over yours, hard planes of muscle aligned with your soft figure…and you are most especially gratified at to feel how deliciously his long, thick cock inerrantly slides against where you are softest, rubbing up against your sensitive bud and the slick heat of your petals.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” Sherlock asks, pressing you deeper into the bed and rocking his hips, drawing a soft cry of pleasure from your lips. “I must walk through the world like this, betrayed by my own body at the slightest thought of you—giving yourself to me, surrendering this sweet, perfect cunt all for my pleasure, to bear my child.”

His filthy poetry has you on the bring of orgasm already, and you can hardly wait another moment to feel him fill you. He eagerly acquiesces to the gentle insistence of your hands against his chest, flipping him to lay upon his back, and you settle atop him, straddling his thighs and dragging your slit against his cock so he can feel what he does to you in return.

“Such a—fuck, that’s it—you are such a beautiful woman,” he murmurs, burying his face in your neck, his breathing set ragged as you sink down onto his length. You gasp at the stretch, too, and for a moment, you hold one another as close as you can, your foreheads pressed together and Sherlock’s fingertips gently stroking hips and thighs as you clench around him. “Now, this position may be somewhat antithetical to our designs—” You almost laugh at his attempt to regain his composure, to lecture on The Shared Purpose, and in answer, you raise yourself up and sink down on his cock again, and again, faster and faster, delighted at how flustered and frantic he becomes. “—but how I love to…to watch my wife—my pretty, pretty little wife—take her pleasure like this—“

“Your wife, Sherlock?” you tease, increasing your pace and smirking as this massive, powerful man shudders beneath you, as helpless to the pleasure of your union as you are. “I thought you didn’t want a wife…particularly.”

It’s a direct quote from his proposal and he knows it; and you can see the very instant his brilliant brain goes feral at your mischief.

“I don’t want a wife,” he growls, clutching at your hips and slamming you down harder, faster, closer, taking back control with animalistic ardor. “I want my wife. Now come for me, Mrs. Holmes, show me what a good wife you are—show me, show me—“

You absolutely shatter, calling out his name, and he takes advantage of your blissful helplessness to regain the upper hand, deftly, easily laying you out on your back and pull your legs about his waist so he can rut into you with abandon.

“Take it,” he encourages. “All you have to do is take it, let me fuck a baby into you, sweet girl—oh, I know, darling, how much you want this, too.”

He holds you so beautifully close as he comes, kissing you gently even as he moans your name. For a long moment you remain entwined, heartbeats slowing in tandem. But he does not allow you a long respite, carefully withdrawing his length from your tender little channel, only to replace it at once with his fingers.

“This is a rule of our household,” he explains, gently tracing your lip with the pad of his thumb as his other hand coaxes another climax out of you. “You will always give me one more, my lovely bride, when I’m finished with you. To direct the seed to your womb, of course…and because it satisfies me to see you made drunk on the pleasure I give you—yes, precisely like that, Mrs. Holmes.”

“One more” turns out to be an understatement.

Seemingly hours later, a new first intimacy is shared: a spent but infinitely smug Sherlock falls asleep in your arms, his head pillowed on your breasts. He is magnificently warm, and has never looked more peaceful or content than he does now, his eyes fluttering in sleep while you stroke his tousled curls, a little smile gracing his lips and one possessive hand placed protectively over your womb, as if this little extra intimacy might coax into being the baby of your shared dreams.

But you are not so content.

For on this wedding day, you have come to a realization, and on this wedding night, your understanding is only made more palpable. This marriage of shared purpose, this convenient, well-planned union, founded on practicality rather than sentiment…is a lie. 

“I love you, Sherlock,” you whisper in the dark, as he dreams on, unknowing…

If you enjoyed, please do peruse my Masterlist!

And thank you with all my heart to those who left kind comments on the previous chapter: ​ @dopebanditlightpie @torchbearerkyle @mathle0matle @crazyunsexycool @inlovewithhisblueeyes @ghotifishreads @astheskycries @foxchild-v​

[dragonslovecoins]

Accountability---

[Wrote this when I was inspired by the Pauline drama, and @deniizor pointed out Halt's behavior towards Will. We never see it make much of an effect on Will, and because of that it gets largely excused, and I have observed such 'little' things are not often talked about unless they had a more severe effect. Just thought it was interesting and made a little fic. Tried to keep it in character but I fear Halt is anlittle out of character, forgive me!! \(TxT)/]

“Will, I want to talk.”

Will looked up from his new arrow. Halt’s expression was decidedly blank, but his eyes were stormy and downcast.

“Of course. What’s wrong?” Will questioned, setting his arrow down. Halt came in, his steps light and nervous, but determined. He sat beside Will and took a breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Will was confused. He furrowed his brow.

“For…what?” He asked. Halt sighed.

“For how I treat you. You know…the threats to tan you hide and the like.” Halt murmured, looking ashamed. Now Will was even more confused.

“You’re…fine?” He answered. “It’s not like you ever actually did it.”

Halt shook his hand, taking one of Will’s hands.

“Will, that doesn’t make it okay. I shouldn’t have threatened you.” He grumbled. Halt was never an emotional man, and even now he was partially closed off from him. His expression stayed blank, his eyes holding all the emotion he wanted to express but couldn’t. Will gave a pause at that, thinking back on his time as Halt’s apprentice. Halt threatened it, but never laid a hand on him. The threat wore off rather quickly, and Will never found reason to be scared or threatened by it.

“I’m not hurt by it,” Will replied after a moment, squeezing Halt’s hand. “But I’m glad you’re talking with me about this. I forgive you.”

Halt sighed softly through his nose, glancing away. Clearly he still felt guilt about it.

“Halt. It’s not that serious.”

“It is. I never hit you, but it hurt you.”

“I’m not hurt, though.” Will said firmly. “I forgive you. It’s serious, but compared to everything else–”

“You shouldn’t be comparing everything else you’ve been through to my actions.”

Halt’s voice was harsh, probably harsher than he intended, but it was enough to make Will stop and consider. It’s true, Will realized, even if what Halt said had minimal effect on him, especially when compared to everything else Will has been through, it was still wrong of the older ranger. Will couldn’t find it in him to actually be mad at the ranger, but Will was happy that Halt took the time out to come apologize.

“...I get what you’re saying. Thank you for apologizing.” Will leaned against Halt’s shoulder. “I don’t hate you.”

Halt gave a snort when Will leaned against him, but he ruffled his hair. Will looked up at him.

“What spurred this on, anyways?” Will questioned.

“I was…worried for you.” He mumbled, voice lowering with bashfulness. “I heard Pauline mention that little behaviors could be excused in relationships, and that the parents often began excusing such behaviors that may also be demonstrated when saying stuff like threats. I couldn’t allow you to continue thinking my actions were okay.”

Will raised an eye at the older ranger. It was a well known fact that Halt spoke more formally when he spoke, due to the Araluen language not being his first. He had heard Halt speak like this when he was furious at Gilan once, but never again until now.

“...’demonstrated’? When have you ever used that word in casual conversation?” Will replied after a pause, trying to take the conversation away from the stifling seriousness. Halt was never one to take the bait, however.

“Don’t try and distract me.” Halt grumbled. Will was now the one to sigh.

“Halt, relax. I’m not mad,” Will protested, encasing Halt in a hug. Halt stiffened, but surprisingly let him hug him, even patting his back for a moment before drawing away. Halt was clearly done with the emotional talk.

“Look, just…I’m sorry. And I care about you. And don’t let people treat you how I did, because that’s wrong,” Halt spoke, voice quick and awkward, but sincere. He toyed with the strings on his shirt, and Will smiled.

“I won’t. And I forgive you.” He assured him.

Halt nodded, standing and returning to the doorway. He paused and glanced back at Will.

“I love you, son.” He grumbled, unable to look Will in the eye. Will was taken aback, but then grinned, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I love you too, dad. And I’m telling Gilan you said that.” He teased. Halt huffed, back to the grumpy ranger Will knew and loved.

“Do that and you’ll be mucking the stables all week.” Halt growled, but knew well that Will would challenge that.

And they both knew Halt would never. Because Halt loved his son.

[squirrel-art]

Q: What do Jedi wear to the club?

A: Their lightsabers!

This is probably the most ambitious thing I’ve drawn in like, a year, which is wild bc I couldn’t even be assed to draw the background (it’s one of my own screenshots from Nar Shaddaa). 

I dunno, I just really like the idea of the psychic space monks getting to be hip normal girls once in a while! <3

Sartorial inspirations below the cut, because figuring out how I was gonna dress everyone was part of the fun teehee

Kira: Kira always struck me a little more of a tomboy, and I like the idea of Coruscanti street fashion orbiting the techwear sphere. So she gets the Kim Possible fit. I think she’d want any excuse to show off her abs \o/

Ántonia: Basically a copy of this outfit  (+leather jacket, gladiator heels, & lightsaber belt) worn by Australian model Isabelle Mathers that I found reposted to Pinterest. I wish I could link to the actual post, but I couldn’t find it on her instagram and suspect it might’ve been from a reel that’s no longer available? Apologies for my lack of journalistic integrity TuT And then her cute little mynock masquerade mask is based on this bat mask.

Savtas: Sav’s casual non-robes wear is almost exclusively jumpsuits, for both convenience and comfort, so of COURSE I put her in the successor to Mark Hamill’s gold lamé jumpsuit he wore for that German TV skit in the 80s. I’m in love with it now

Nadia: I just really wanted to put her in something cute with a lean towards 60s retro-futurism! It felt Star Wars-appropriate. Her dress is based on this fantastic little number by Gnyuki Torimaru. I also gave her Dior boots because I saw them on Pinterest & decided they were fantastic. You might also notice she’s changed the design of her face paint to match Sav’s tattoos ^_^

insert that old adage about gay friend groups always looking like they’re attending separate events

[gh0ulkisser]

who's he?` hobie brown

warnings cats??, i didn't proofread so there's probably some mistakes lol, the n word is used once....twice... maybe three times, sexual tenison ig, shit talking ab white people LOL & that should be it... enjoy! also i don't know how british people talk soo he's american in this either hate it or love it. this is my first time writing after a while so feedback would be really appreciated.

based on the song "that's the way love goes" to some extent. was listening to it on repeat & got inspired.

and happy juneteenth to my fellow african americans!

★★★★★★★★★★★★

it's a beautiful monday afternoon. the blazing sun hitting my chocolate skin, the cool breeze kissing my cheeks making me feel relaxed. me and my friend grace decided to have picnic crowded park to celebrate juneteenth, something simple something cute.

"and my mom made these sandwiches for us." grace face lit up with a bright smile showing off the sandwiches that are wrapped in wax paper. "what kind of sandwiches are they?" i asked taking one from her hand.

"some vegetarian sandwich, my mom is on her healthy shit." she unwrapped the wax paper biting the sandwich immediately. "so what's going on with you? i haven't seen you in a while miss thing."

grace looks at me with engaging eyes. "nothing, i've been chilling that's all." i said lightly breaking eye contact. "nigga stop lying." grace yelled making people turn their heads to stare. "who's the boy?"

"there's no boy. i promi-" i got cut off by my phone ringing. me and grace both look at the contact name.

"hobie🫶"

"bitch who the fuck is hobie? and why did you put that emoji?" grace stares at the phone with a shocked face. "why are you assuming its a boy first of all, second of all i use the emoji for everyone i cherish."

"you don't have that emoji for me." i rolled my eyes. "it's not that big of deal i promise. he's just a friend." i grabbed my phone putting it on dnd. "bitch you fucking annoying." grace murmured.

"can you at least tell me about him? likeeee what does he look like.... how do you meet him?" grace asks. i shook my head. "nigga why not?" you can talk to me about anything else but this is where you draw the line?" i nodded taking a bite of my sandwich.

"oh my god! did you fuck him?" grace questions. my mouth open in shocked. "no i didn't fuck him! i literally just met him. grace please!" i unlocked my phone going straight to my camera roll to pull up a picture of him. "this is him." i said passing my phone to grace.

it was a picture of hobie and me at a cat café. his beautiful smile showing his pearly whites, the silver piercings making his face even more sexier and his thick stunning wicks.

★★★★★★★★★★★★

the four-legged animal purred underneath my hand as i softly pet it. "i want to adopt a cat so badly." i said breaking the silence between me and hobie. he looks at me and then the cat. "why? cats are evil."

"if cats are evil why did you agree on coming to a cat café with me?" i lifted an eyebrow looking at him. he smirks. "i needed an excuse to hang out with you." i blushed breaking eye contact.

"i don't know if this is a weird thing to say." i looked up at him admiring his face. so damn attractive...the things this man can do to me. "but white people are so fucking weird." he said snapping me out of thoughts.

silence...

we just looked at each other.

i busted out laughing scaring the poor innocent cat. "what made you say some shit like that hobie?" i asked and he just shrugged. "there was this white girl in my class that had the same last name as me." i paused to pet the cat calming it down. "and i just thought about her ancestors enslaving my people."

"is that a fucked up thing to think about?" i asked him as i played with the cat's tail. "yes." he said nonchalantly. we sat in silence but the silence was soothing and very comfortable.

the purring of the cat and the chatter of the customers filled in the silence. i felt him stare at me. making my heart start to pound against my chest. i then felt this hand start to stroke my thigh.

i looked at his hand then i looked at him.

"you good?" he asked in a mocking way. "mhmm." he smirked knowing i was in fact not good. "you wanna go to my place?" he squeezed my thigh. his cold rings leaving a mark on my thigh.

★★★★★★★★★★★★

"he's cute." grace said grinning. "yea i know." i finished eating my sandwich wiping the crumbs off my mouth. "so he's not your boyfriend?" grace gave you back your phone. you shook your head.

"we are only friends."

[mbslost]

hi. yes i came back for another yapping session, ironic.

i would like to express some of my feelings towards... some interesting things.

1. The Strade nazi drawing

i talked about his before, i am aware, but later (while reading other opinions as well) i got reminded about EP (Electricpuke for those who dont know him). did we all forgot HOW MANY nazi drawings he made? dont you believe that's an influence as well? if i remember correctly, Gato cut ties with him because of his abusive behaviour (there arent many people talking about this but some user are aware about his actions. sadly i wasnt in the community when that happened)

literally there are people calling Gato a nazi when she doesn't support the ideology. why did no one act the same with EP? different standards? the fact he left (probably) for good? still its not an excuse to call Gato a nazi. also she apologised multiple times. again MULTIPLE TIMES. even in the callout post in twt you can see the fact she IS sorry for drawing that. that she REGRETS it

edit: kay found a ss on tt from the user @/gorturic where Gato said this as well

again, she doesn't support any nazi shit :/

2. The way others silence opinions that they dont like

im not saying you should be forced to agree with it, but when you make a callout account, normally, you let multiple people say their opinions over that thing. you can even show proof when you see someone is wrong. thats how argument work, crazy ik.

i start to see that if you defend Gato or just leave the community because the fandom its on thin ice, you'll be harassed and bullied for your choices. first of all, HOW ABOUT WE LEAVE PEOPLE THAT DONT WANT TO ASSOCIATE WITH BTD/TPOF ANYMORE ALONE. good? literally saw multiple users being harassed by this. its THEIR decision, suck it up. also can we stop SENDING DEATH THREATS???

or the fact that if you do have a point, they'll immediately cancel it with the "oh but its not important". it can be if you have some proofs for their misinformation (just like i proved the variety of poc characters Gato CREATED. didnt talk about Ren since he's another story)

3. Lack of proof for the side allegations.

if people noticed mods harassing people sm, why didnt they talk? why arent there ss of their conversations? we dont even know (most of us) what they even commented about (aside of Pussyspieler drawing). or the twt user that was wronged. that situation was like.. kind of a "im more autistic so you should shut up" (i have to add that i asked people on the spectrum about this and that was their point of view) of course the mod shouldn't have said it like that but.. its more of a misunderstanding really.. that doesnt mean you cant be upset. you absolutely can. everyone can react differently so dont harass them for feeling down or for being frustrated.

also the spanish (or mexican idk) users that just copied and translated @/renhanasgf posts with little to no new information. just the same thing. (although they said something of Gato not sending merch to latin America. probably because of the laws back then or the fact that the transport fee would be high af. im still searching for the reason tho so ill need some time for that one).

4. This fandom is messed up

people when fans of horror porn games are problematic 🤯. i agree that some people are being like extreme with their reactions, but no one is perfect here. just like i approached the situation completely wrong, they did the same. of course, now if you go around and be a racist piece of shit, you shoudl just stay off the internet for a while. luckily more approach the "like the art not the artist" thing.

look. you can always block users that you dont like (just like i do to those who are either into csam,thanks for telling me ab this term anon!, or incest). i know. shocking that people can block others.

after all these fandoms are not for the weak. there may be some safe spaces in it as well but... lets be real... its still going to be problematic. if you cant handle the community or how others act around here, then id suggest for you to not have a close interaction with others. like uhm, just, appreciate the content, not every person around here. just be aware of the users, stau safe okay?

5. Will i stop yapping?

not until i will see an agreement in the fandom. Gato is a human, of course she will do mistakes. especially if she's anxious or tired. having hundreds of people around you its hard and i can imagine it. having supoortive people only to wake up with people hating you. i hope she's safe and that she wont have to go to the hospital again. i pray for her well being, and to others that got spammed with those disgusting comments.

im not saying we should forget about this like.. her poor management and emotional way of responding to things, but is it truly worth it? to force a person to apologise just because they tried to fix things?

i also dont think ill stop because i just feel like im the only one that does talk here (trying to even prove wrong on some things). if others do it as well, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TAG ME I WANNA SEE THEM😭 also because most people are still so confused about EVERYTHING. for some reason this drama its only getting more popular on tt for some reason.. which is a big no no since there are a lot of YOUNG people. i believe this should be talked here, and on twitter. (idk what to say about telegram)

ill stop here since my sickness got me. i will edit it later to add or correct myself but *sighs*

please stay safe and try to view more opinions over this. DONT SPAM OR HARASS ANYONE WHO ONLY WANTED TO EXPRESS THEIR FEELINGS. we'll see on Sunday how things will turn out.

(if i missed something out or said something wrong please correct me)

[littlest-nightingale]

little! 13th Doctor because I've talked ab her as a caregiver but not as a little:

 • oh my god. she is a DISASTER

 • she goes to great lengths to hide her regression/not regress. like she is FIGHTING IT

 • about... 1-3 years old? she's little little

 • i genuinely don't think she had an entirely pleasant regression the entire time she was the doctor. i actually think she was that miserable. like maybe there were some regressions that were enjoyable but i think she was lonely and upset most of the time

 • she was absolutely desperate not to let the fam know. She didn't want them to think she was weak, and she definitely didn't want them to see her when she was so helpless.

 • part of it was definitely because this regeneration was a woman! lots of people started treating her differently when she regenerated into a woman, and part of that was that people thought she was weaker or dumber or more incompetent. So she definitely didn't want people to know she regressed! she didn't want to be viewed as more incompetent than people already seemed to view her as.

 • it was also because she was running from her issues. regression takes away what little filter she does have. if she was to regress and say something about the stress she was under, the fam would definitely start pushing her to talk about it, which she very much doesn't want to do!

 • finding out about the timeless child ordeal broke her. She had an entire childhood she couldn't remember because it was taken from her! and, because we know she could remember little glimpses of it, what if regression allowed her to remember. little bits and pieces. little glimpses into tecteuns experiments. maybe even the few times she was forced to regenerate.

 • after finding out, regression wasn't safe for her! memories she wasn't even supposed to have started slipping through the cracks, and unfortunately, her regression isn't entirely voluntary.

 • it didn't help that she spent 19 years in isolation immediately afterwards. she was stuck in that cell and she would regress and she would remember and there was nobody there to help her through it.

 • and even afterwards, she didn't open up about it. ever. She pushed through, she regenerated, and that was it.

 • in terms of regression gear, she has quite a lot. that doesn't mean she uses it.

 • 10, 11, and 12 were also regressors. 10 got a metric fuckton of regression gear and that collection has been modified and added on to with each new regeneration.

 • most of this is kept in a nursery/playroom originally made for 10, which she has asked the TARDIS to hide down the longest hallway she could generate (sometimes the TARDIS pushes the room forward. 13 doesn't take that well)

 • she keeps one stuffed animal in her room. one raggedy stuffed giraffe clara had gifted 11. it is hidden under her bed next to a teether and a box of stim toys

 • given her just. general autism. and how she is. she can get away with alot. she can have stim toys. she can stop talking. she can have cute onesie pajamas. you get the idea. so at least she has that.

 • but stepping away from the absolute misery, here's some happier ones:

 • i think there were positive regression triggers, even if she suppressed it. like at Yaz's grandma's wedding, when they were doing the henna tattoos (i believe that's what they were? im not too familiar with the culture, excuse me if i am wrong and feel free to correct me) as well as the fez, and getting her new clothes!

 • She has a tamagotchi! She is very good at taking care of it, despite it all. She also has a ds with Nintendogs, which was previously used by 11. it's modded so she can have more dogs than the game allows =]

 • she has matching bracelets with her giraffe plush!

 • Shes got a blanket with stars on it, sometimes she lays on top of it with her nightlight on because. sparkly

 • she draws on herself. yes she has paper yes she could draw on a more permanent surface but it's more fun to draw on herself