#my brain was just like 'do a drawing! draw! do something else right now!'

[mythicalmisery]

Pyrophilia AU: GhostxSoap

The bar was a warm refuge from the damp chill of the night, a place where the team could forget the aftermath of the mission for a few hours. Ghost stood beside Soap at the bar, nursing his drink while they waited on the rest of their order. The low light washed over the balaclava he had pulled up over his nose so he could take an occasional sip. Soap was next to him, the upbeat chatter of the bar mixing with the soft clink of glasses and the hum of conversation. 

The mission had gone well- no casualties and the base they’d targeted was nothing but smoldering rubble now. 

But Goat’s mind lingered on something. Soap had gone dark during the extraction, his comms dead until they’d regrouped at the exfil point. He let the silence stretch between them for a moment longer, watching the sergeant from the corner of his eye before speaking. 

“What happened on the mission?”

Soap, already a couple of drinks in, gave him a puzzled look. “What do ye mean?”

“Ya went dark after ya set the charges. Comms were off ’til ya got to exfil.” Ghost’s tone was calm, but there was a weight behind it that had Soap on edge now.

Soap blinked, clearly caught off guard. He opened his mouth before closing it once again as his scotch-soaked brain tried to find the words. Running his hand through his mohawk, he turned back to him with a shrug. “Must’ve been an equipment malfunction. I’ll take my radio to tech in the mornin’, get it checked out.”

Ghost narrowed his eyes, though his expression remained hidden. He didn’t believe him, not fully at least. Soap’s tone was too casual, too rehearsed, but Ghost knew better than to push. If Soap was lying, he’d figure it out eventually. Backing the man in a corner was just gonna have him lashing out and turning on the defensive. 

“Right,” was all he said, letting the matter drop for now. But his mind wouldn’t stop running over it. Soap didn’t lie to him. Not his sergeant. 

Their drinks finally came, and both men headed back to the corner booth where Price and Gaz were already seated. The minutes passed, the men taking turns to take the piss out of each other and finally relax after a grueling two weeks of recon. Ghost stayed mostly quiet, content to observe. But his focus kept drifting back to Soap, to that nagging feeling something wasn’t right. 

As the laughter filled the booth, Ghost absently reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his old zippo lighter. The cool metal had become a comfort of late, something to ground him when his thoughts spiraled. He flipped it open, the quiet click soothing, his thumb flicking the wheel to produce a small, steady flame. He didn’t smoke as much as he used to, one every now and then after a particularly stressful mission, but the ritual had become second nature, a habit more than anything else. 

He wasn’t the only one watching the flame. 

Across the table, Soap’s gaze had zeroed in on his lighter, eyes fixated in a way Ghost hadn’t seen before. At least now that he was actively looking for something. It was like the man’s breath hitched every time the flame flickered to life, his focus unnaturally sharp on the glowing ember. Gaz said something to Soap, drawing him away, but Ghost noticed the slight shift in his body language, the way his fingers twitched around his glass as if resisting the urge to reach out. 

Ghost’s brow furrowed beneath his mask, and a slow realization crept up on him. He flicked the zippo shut, a quiet clink, and slid it back into his pocket, mind already working overtime. Soap hadn’t taken his eyes off that lighter the entire time. The sudden bang of the alley door slamming open as the bartender returned from his break had his thoughts returning to reality. The action sending a gust of cool Autumn air through the bar, snuffing out the hollowed candle on the table. 

Call it divine intervention, but it gave Ghost the perfect chance to test his theory. With a quiet metallic clink, he flicked his zippo open again, and Soap’s attention snapped back to him like a well-trained dog. Ghost lit the candle in silence, his eyes sharp as he observed every twitch in Soap’s expression.

The man didn’t even blink, his gaze locked on the small flame as if mesmerized, a faint tremor running through him. When Ghost leaned back in his seat, still watching him, he noticed the subtle shift in Soap’s posture— the tension in his frame, the way he readjusted himself.

It hit Ghost like a freight train.

Fucking pyrophiliac. 

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then his thoughts snapped back to the mission and everything he knew about the man. The pieces clicked into place, and his blood ran hot with anger. Soap had turned off his comms not because of an equipment malfunction or to take a piss or any other sorry excuse, but because he’d detonated the charges, and…

The fucker got off on it. 

Ghost’s grip tightened around the lighter, his jaw clenching beneath the mask. How the fuck had he not figured it out sooner? He remembered desperately shouting Soap’s name over the comms, only to be met with silence— his mind spiraling into the worst possibilities. The fear had consumed him until he spotted that familiar mop of hair leaning against the wall at exfil, and finally, he could breathe again. And all of that because the so-called demolitions expert was getting his rocks off?

Soap flinched when Ghost snapped the zippo shut a little too harshly, the sound sharp and deliberate. Ghost pocketed the lighter and slid out of the booth, the leather cushion creaking under his weight. His movements were calm and measured as his eyes remained locked on Soap. He pinned the man where he sat like a helpless insect, watching every nervous shift, every flicker of unease that crossed his face. He knew Ghost was angry, but not what for. 

“I’m goin’ for a smoke,” Ghost said flatly, the words heavy with something unsaid, a warning hidden beneath the surface laid there for only Soap to pick up on. 

Price looked up from his drink, grumbling about the mountain of paperwork still waiting for him back at base. “Aye, best be heading back soon before it starts raining,” he muttered, gathering his things. Gaz downed the last of his pint, shaking his head as he mentioned early morning drills.

Soap slid out of the booth after them, clearly rattled but keeping quiet as Price and Gaz said their goodbyes. He lingered, letting the others leave as if waiting for some kind of cue. Ghost didn’t give him one—he just stood there, silent and still, his presence as oppressive as the storm rolling in outside.

When the others were finally out of earshot, Ghost turned to Soap, his voice cutting through the space between them like a knife. “Ya care to join me, Johnny?”

Soap hesitated only for a second, knowing full well it wasn’t a question. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor before giving a reluctant nod. “Aye,” he muttered, his voice stripped of its usual cocky edge, though he made one last desperate attempt to play it cool. His posture had gone rigid like he was walking into something he wasn’t prepared for, but without a word of protest, he followed Ghost out the back door.

The alleyway was damp and shadowed, the smell of rain lingering in the air. Ghost lit his cigarette, the flicker of his zippo casting long shadows on the brick walls where it illuminated his mask. Still silent, he exhaled a plume of smoke into the air, his eyes trained on his sergeant. 

Soap shifted uncomfortably, glancing around like he was trying to find something, anything, to break the silence. But Ghost could feel the weight of his nerves, the way he kept stealing glances at the lighter still in Ghost’s hand.

After a moment, Ghost finally spoke, his voice low and edged with cold amusement. “So… ya wanna tell me what really happened back there?”

Soap froze, caught like a deer in the headlights, and for the first time in a long while, Ghost saw him stripped of his bravado. 

Soap leaned against the cold brick wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to appear casual as he spoke. “I already told ye, I dunno what happened to my comms,” he muttered, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. 

Ghost took a slow drag from his cigarette, as he looked up at the sky. He nodded slightly, but there was something cold, calculating in his gaze when he turned back toward his sergeant. In the blink of an eye, the space between them vanished. Ghost had Soap pinned against the brick wall, his forearm pressed hard against Soap’s throat. 

“Fuck—” Soap barely had time to react, the force of the shove knocking the breath out of him. Anger flared instantly, his voice rising in protest. “What the fuck are ye doin’?” His hands instinctively gripped Ghost’s arm, trying to push him off, his fiery temper returning in full force. This wasn’t the hesitant, unsure man from earlier. This was his sergeant— his Johnny — coming back with a bite. 

But Ghost wasn’t fazed. He stared down at Soap, his eyes dark, the harsh grip tightening. With his free hand, he pulled out the zippo and flicked it open, the flame crackling to life mere inches from Soap’s face. The heat licked at his skin, the flames dancing dangerously close. Ghost cocked his head to the side, a cruel smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“No?” Ghost’s voice was low, taunting. “It didn’t have anything to do with your little secret?” His tone dripped with amusement, each word pressing heavier than the arm keeping Soap pinned in place.

Soap’s eyes were drawn to the flame, his breath quickening despite himself. It took every ounce of willpower to tear his gaze away from the fire threatening to singe his eyelashes. He locked eyes with Ghost, his expression hardening as anger flashed beneath the surface. “I don’t know what the fuck yer talkin’ about,” he bit out, his voice sharp with defiance.

Ghost chuckled darkly, the sound a sharp contrast to the tension in the air. It wasn’t just a laugh—it was a taunt, a challenge. “Don’t play dumb with me, Johnny.” Boldened by Soap’s stubbornness and his own growing irritation, Ghost decided to escalate the situation. He took a long drag from his cigarette, then leaned closer, blowing the smoke directly into Soap’s face, his breath hot against the sergeant’s skin.

As the smoke swirled between them, Ghost’s voice dropped to a whisper that sent a chill down Soap’s spine. “I think ya know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, Johnny.” His free hand drifted down, brushing over the front of Soap’s jeans. 

Soap cursed under his breath at the sudden touch, his body betraying him with a shudder of heat and adrenaline. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, fury warring with the embarrassment that was already flooding his face. His voice was tight, the words forced through gritted teeth. “Ghost, what the fuck—“

But there was no denying what Ghost felt beneath his hand, and Soap’s body betrayed his mind. The tension in the air crackled as Ghost leaned in closer, his lips brushing Soap’s ear, his words mocking and satisfied. 

“Always knew ya were a firebug, MacTavish.”

[impzone]

drawing i did instead of what i was supposed to do

[bacchuschucklefuck]

assorted thoughts 1/when sklonda mentioned getting drinks with sandra lynn now and then I straight up cheered I was so scared for her social life being so overworked 2/straight up have no judgement on the whole ratgrinder situation on account of being a whole grown man. Im not getting into beef with fictional teenagers let them sort that out among themselves 3/sprak levefre

[topaztimes]

Hi this is a vent post! Continue scrolling if you'd rather not see that

[crescentfool]

ohh the joy of videos and streams... i like listening to people talk about things they like/think about it’s very contagious... 🥺

[birt-art]

Feeling the urge to Create Things but have no ideas for what to create. And I know that if I just start creating things the ideas will come because the ideas machine is a muscle that needs to be warmed up and trained but I can't START without an IDEA, I need a creative version of a couch to 5k program

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[soyoursoulisgreen]

5, 11, and 30 for the artist ask meme!

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

It's increased over time! Well, actually, it's been a bell curve, kind of. Maybe more like a roller coaster lol. Obviously before I was online I wasn't sharing any of the stuff I drew; I drew for about seven years before posting anything - casually, for my own entertainment - and then for a while I was posting almost everything in some form or another; if I didn't post the original doodle, it was because I cleaned it digitally! But I got pretty burnt out on that haha - it does still come and go in cycles lol. Nowadays I probably keep back about 30% of what I draw? Although it can be hard to quantify - if you upload to an audience of zero, is it actually online? Haha ♪ Or an audience of one! Just because it's shared using the internet as a middle man, does that count as "posting"? :0 I don't know! I think it's an interesting question tho!

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

Yes! It really depends on what I'm drawing; my go-tos are always Reddit story readings since I don't have to think too hard about picking one, they last a while, and they keep my auditory brain occupied while my hands and eyes are busy. For a couple days of Requestober, especially the Portal/Stanley Parable days but also the song prompt, I was listening to themed stuff - GLaDOS lines, Narrator lines, the aforementioned song haha. I hate having to stop to pick the next thing! It makes editing my footage harder and throws off my flow :P

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

A lot of my Law Abiding Citizen stuff probably - LAC is such a good series!! I wish more people would see it/were still into it. We're few, and I was late to party, but my love still burns! If I had to pick just one thing tho, I think it'd have to go to one of my Just Desserts comics - I cried while drawing it initially, and I still think Charm's transition from her smiling-crying face to her angry-crying face is so well done ♥

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[simplyholl]

Filthy

Summary: After a long mission, Bucky needs you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

See my Masterlist Here

"Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" Your sweet voice replayed over and over in his mind. He hadn't flat out refused your offer, but he hadn't said yes either. Now as he laid under the rubble of the bomb Hydra had detonated, it was all he could think of.

You were friends, one of the only people besides Steve to make him feel welcome on the Avengers. The others were wary of him, and he didn’t blame them. He had done unforgivable things as The Winter Soldier. Now he was fighting for the right cause. He couldn't help the reoccurring nightmares of the horrors he encountered in his past. He didn't want to get too comfortable in his new life, the one Steve helped him obtain because he was scared The Winter Soldier was still lurking around in his brain somewhere.

That's why he never dated. Sam would tease him, telling him he could have anybody he wanted, but he settled for his hand every night. Bucky couldn't afford to get too close to anyone. Especially someone who was weaker than him like the opposite sex. He was scared he would lose control while being intimate and hurt or even kill his partners. So he never let anyone get too close, until you.

You came bouncing into his life unexpectedly. You were brought on the team shortly after him. He would never forget your first day. Steve introduced you to everyone at the morning meeting. You were all smiles, your bubbly personality instantly drawing him in. The others were making comparisons between the two of you immediately. You were so happy, so upbeat all the time and Steve was the only one who could get Bucky to crack his cold exterior and actually smile.

Despite your differences, you got along great. Which was a bonus since Tony liked to pair you together for missions. You worked well together, complimenting each other in ways you had never thought of. Who knew almost dying together every week can cause you to form close bonds? You were spending all your free time together. You introduced him to your favorite films, some of them were awful, but he would never tell you that. You would stay up late together watching old reruns of 90's sitcoms for comfort after long missions. Bucky would go shopping with you, holding every bag you had and never complaining.

The team thought something was going on between you. Why else would the cold super soldier follow you around like a lost puppy? They put Steve up to asking about it, but Bucky denied anything but friendship. There had never been anything happen in the whole year you knew each other. You never sat too close or crossed any boundaries, never thought about it until a month ago.

One of the longest, most dangerous missions you had ever been on finally came to a close. There had been too many casualties and you were upset. Even the comfort of your warm pajamas and favorite movie didn't ease your mind. Bucky thought you needed to be alone, so he told you goodnight and headed for his room. You called after him pleading him to stay with you. You couldn't be alone, not after that.

He hesitated, he never stayed the night with anyone because of his nightmares. Tony even gave him a pass when a mission required room sharing. He was the only one who didn't have to pair up. He was afraid he might hurt you or scare you during his sleep. He tried to tell you, but you couldn't be swayed. He found himself under your fluffy pink comforter on heart shaped pillows, surrounded by a mountain of stuffed animals but he felt oddly at home.

You tried to cuddle up to him, but he scooted away. He didn't want you too close to him while he was asleep just in case he had a nightmare. But you didn't care. You told him if he attacked you in his sleep, you would blast his dick off. That made him a little less worried. "How do Tony and Clint do it?" You asked as you wrapped your arms around him, trying to snuggle the grumpy super soldier. "Do what?" He relaxed a little under your touch. "The whole normal family thing. They have a wife, kids, the works, and they are the only ones. The rest of us can't keep a relationship for more than a month, and some only do one night stands. It's hard being a hero when you have to give up stuff like that."

Bucky considers your words carefully. "Is that something you want?" You throw your leg over him, trying to get comfortable. "Eventually, I want to settle down. I'm thinking at least ten years from now, not any time soon. It's just hard to tell who is asking you out for the right reasons or because you're famous. I can't tell you how many phones I've destroyed after dates because they were trying to live stream the whole thing. Is that why you don't date?"

Bucky tenses, explaining how his past as The Winter Soldier scared him away from anything like that. "So you haven't been having sex because you're scared you will hurt someone?" He nods and you giggle. Bucky looks at you like you've grown a second head. "I'm sorry Bucky, that's ridiculous. Your arm must be so tired! Oh my God! Do you use the metal one?" His silence makes you laugh harder. "Bucky there are super powered women you could have been sleeping with this whole time. People who could at least put up a fair fight if something like that happened, but you're okay now right? I thought the code words didn't work anymore." You rub his back soothingly.

You gasp as an idea hits you. "Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" It was like word vomit. You didn't mean to say it out loud, but you couldn't take it back now. Bucky is so still that you think he's fallen asleep. Thankful he didn't hear your unhinged suggestion, you lay your head down to go to sleep.

"You mean that?" Bucky asks after a few minutes of silence pass. "If it wouldn't hurt our friendship then, why not? I trust you. And I could hold my own if things went sideways. Plus, I'm a lot hotter than your hand, you have to admit that." The quip earned a chuckle from him. "Can I think about it?" He asks, his seriousness taking over. "Of course." You snuggle back into him, sleep finding you more quickly than you would've liked. That was a little over a month ago, neither of you brought it up afterward. You figured he didn't want to hurt your feelings, so you let it go.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand helping him to his feet. "I thought we lost you back there." He says leading him to the quinjet. On the ride home, Bucky thought about his life, how unhappy he had been lately. He thought of you and how he kept you at arm's length to protect you from himself. You were always so open to him, always letting him know what was on your mind. When you suggested the two of you sleep together, he was shocked. Of course, he wanted to but he couldn't. You were too sweet, he was jaded. He would end up hurting you somehow, he was sure of it. But you weren't scared of him, you trusted him.

Bucky thought of all the times he laid alone at night, masterbating when he could have went home with someone instead. He always turned them down, he couldn't risk it. He lived too dangerously. He could lose his life any moment saving the planet from the next alien attack. Wasn't it time he started living for himself? He had his mind made up when the quinjet landed. Steve told him to go get the cuts on his face and arm examined but he ignored him.

He almost ran to the elevator, not bothering to wait for Steve to get on before pressing the button to shut the doors. When it finally stopped on his floor, he walked by his room, stopping three doors down right outside of yours. He should have cared that it was three in the morning, that he would be waking you up, but he didn't. He tapped on the door loud enough to wake you.

He regretted coming straight here as he waited for you, he should have went to his room to shower first. His leather jacket was dirty and torn. There was a small gash on his arm that had finally stopped bleeding. His face was filthy and according to Steve, he had a cut there too. He probably looked terrifying. He thought about leaving to clean up, but then he heard the pitter patter of your feet as you approached the door.

You pull it open slightly at first, to see who is outside, opening it wider when you see him. He steps inside as you shut it back, locking it behind him. Bucky looks around the dark room noticing the glow from your tv. Your hair is messy, you must have been sleeping fitfully. His gaze drops to your body, you're wearing a black t-shirt that stops at your hips and black lace panties.

"Are you okay?" You ask taking in his disheveled appearance. You turn to get something to clean his wounds, his vibranium hand catches your wrist. "Bucky? What hap-" He picks you up with one arm, holding you close to his body as his lips crash into yours. He walks you to the edge of your bed, tumbling on top of you as your back hits your fluffy pink comforter.

"Do you still want this?" He asks, his voice rougher than he intended. You can't think clearly, not with him on top of you, caging you in like this. His blue eyes search your face as he waits for an answer. Your panties grow wetter with each second that passes. Your nipples are peaked under your shirt, desperate to be touched as you press your chest to his dirty leather jacket. "Yes" You somehow manage to whisper your confirmation.

His mouth is on yours again, rough and demanding, almost desperate. You cup his face with your hands, "Slow down, I'm not going anywhere." You assure him, breaking the kiss. He groans, hating the loss of contact. "Can't" He rasps, his face nuzzling against your neck. He nips and kisses the sensitive skin there, his tongue licking from your shoulder to your jaw.

His flesh hand travels to your chest, rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple. He keeps kissing his way back down your throat until he reaches the collar of your shirt. His metal arm grabs the top, slipping underneath to get a good grip on it. He rips it down the center with little effort.

You gasp as the cold air hits your now exposed chest. But you're not cold for long, Bucky's lips capture a nipple between his lips tugging and sucking like his life depends on it while his flesh hand toys with the other one. You're not sure what has gotten into him, you never expected it to be like this, like he needs you.

He kisses a trail down your stomach to your panties. They aren't exactly see through, but they don't hide anything either. His vibranium fingers dig into your hip as he lowers his face, his pink tongue licking up the center of your soaked panties. You whimper underneath him, your fingers sliding in his hair, pulling at the short strands.

He grunts as he licks you through the lacy material. You try to close your legs around his head, hoping to bring yourself more relief. Bucky's steel grip on your hip tightens as he brings his flesh hand to your thigh, pulling it off him. He opens you wide, continuing his desperate assault on you. "I need more, please." You whine, needing to actually feel him against you.

He thankfully takes mercy on you, removing his hands to grab both sides of your panties. "Lift your hips for me." You do as your told, and he slides the unwanted garment off of you. He drags you to the edge of the bed, lowering himself on his knees in front of you. He parts your thighs, metal hand returning to its rightful place on your hip. You place your leg over his shoulder, taking a deep breath as the anticipation makes your skin prickle.

His hot breath on your soaked core makes you tremble. You feel him smirk against you. "I havent even touched you yet and you're shakin' like a leaf." A dark chuckle escapes him and he dives in. His tongue flat against you as he gathers your slick, bringing it to your clit and swirling it around. He moans, loving the way you taste. He wraps his lips around your most sensitve part, drawing you in, causing your hips to buck upward.

His grip on your hip tightens, a bruise beginning to form under his thumb. "Be a good girl for me. Stay still." His voice is soft, gentle, a complete contrast to his actions. He alternates between sucking you roughly and licking you slowly. You squirm underneath him, you're so close. He suddenly stops, removing his face from you.

His flesh hand rubbing your stomach, before laying his arm on you forcefully to keep you from moving. "I said stay still." He growls, his tongue swiping your clit before he sucks it between his lips once more. It takes every ounce of concentration you have to not writhe against him. You've never seen him like this so needy, almost feral. He's like a wild animal slurping you down like you're the first thing he's eaten in weeks. You don't dare to disturb him. So you lie as still as you can, letting him have you.

He needs this. He needs you. He flicks his tongue expertly over your clit, sendng you spiralling. He holds you down as he takes all he wants from you. He's not satisfied until you come three times. Your legs are wobbly, you couldn't get up if you had to. Tears stream down your face from how intense it was. He finally stands, unbuttoning his pants, sliding them down just enough to free himself.

He adjusts himself between your legs, filling you up. You gasp, grabbing onto his grimy leather jacket for support. You wonder why he didn't bother with getting undressed, but you don't mind. You love how dirty he is. How the filth on his jacket rubbing against your bare chest is the sexiest thing in the world right now. How you can see the cut on his arm, dried blood on his sleeve. You don't know if it's his or some Hydra asshole's, and you don't know which is hotter.

His hair is disheveled. His face is scraped, dirt from the mission caked on him, remnants of your arousal still on his mouth. He fills you completely over and over, holding you as close as he can. His pants rub the back of your thighs as he pounds into you. You caress his face, "Can I be on top?" You ask quietly, afraid you'll offend him some way in his feral state. He flips you so his back is on your mattress. Normally you would be upset that your sheets were getting dirty, but you didn't mind at all. You place your legs on either side of him, sliding down his length. Your ass hits the fabric of his jeans as you take all of him.

You look behind you noticing how big he looks on your bed. His leather boots covered in mud, hanging off the edge. A gush of arousal floods his lap, his hands hold your thighs, pulling you closer. You begin to lift yourself up and down on him, your legs still shaky from your earlier orgasms. Bucky notices you won't be able to keep it up for long, so he clutches your hips, taking over. He thrusts underneath you, your hands land on his shoulders needing to steady yourself. You love that it's giving the illusion that you're in control, your body on top of his, but he's calling all the shots, moving your body like he owns it.

You've never felt so full. It's as if Bucky can read your mind, his flesh hand pressing on the bulge he's making in your stomach. He works you harder now, his vibranium thumb coming between you to swirl your clit. Your vision goes blurry, stars bursting behind your eyelids. You come with a loud cry of his name. He follows shortly after, spilling inside you. He holds you close, as you listen to his breathing slow down as he drifts off to sleep while still inside you.

Tags in the comments! ❤️

[loves4ge]

tattoo artist!au, cw: partial nudity, mdni

choso can feel his heart stutter in his chest, bumping against his ribcage. god, who just walked in? the pen he's using to draw in his tablet clatters to the ground, though he can't be bothered to pick it up because he is too busy staring at you.

oh, you, with your lovely little dress hitching near the middle of your thigh. strappy sandals and painted nails, you have him hooked. the parlor is dimly lit and smells of ink and paper and alcohol. the kind that's used for cleaning wounds and not the one that you get drunk on with your friends on friday nights. he doesn't even hear your words and you have to repeat them.

"sorry, what did you say?" he sounds out of breath despite not doing any physical exertion. and you grin, that smile would put the sun to shame.

"that's alright. i wanted to get a tattoo but i wasn't sure if you accepted walk-ins?" you trail off towards the end in an inquiring tone. you know that they don't. it's their pinned post on social media.

he does not accept walk-ins. "sure we do, what do you have in mind?"

your eyes brighten, grinning even wider, and choso thinks he might just die and go to heaven right now. he can't stop glancing at you when you show him the designs on your phone.

"where do you want it done?" he asks at the end, opening a blank page on his tablet to finalize a design. you can't help but observe him, leaning over the counter, hair in two twin ponytails and eyeliner done to perfection.

"i was thinking my hip? like if i wore a bikini, i want the tattoo to be partially obscured by the bikini bottoms." choso thinks he may as well have short-circuited with the speed his brain is malfunctioning. you notice his delayed response and almost cooed. he's shy.

this isn't the first time a client has asked for a tattoo in a risqué position, and he's never batted an eye at nudity either. but he's entirely unsure of himself when you strip down to your panties (you ended up taking off the short dress, though you did wear a cami underneath it), and he's thinking maybe he does have a problem with nudity after all (most people call this problem an erection, but choso's not that crude).

"you're gonna have to pull it aside, or i can cut it off." he doesn't specify which part, and now your eyes widen.

swallowing thickly, you ask, "what do you mean?" you know what he means, but you sort of hope he meant something else.

"the side of your underwear, we can just cut a slit—oh," he understands what his previous sentence sounded like when he sees your face contort into disbelief and then promptly dissolve into relief.

he doesn't look at you directly, "sorry, i don't know why i said that. it's, oh god, sorry to make you uncomfort—" he's cut off by your words of understanding.

"it's my fault really. i swear i'm not uncomfortable. really, choso." oh, the money he'd pay to hear his name leave your lips again.

"…if you say so. i'll use the scissors now, if that's okay?" you nod, smiling to encourage him. god knows he needs no encouragement to cut off your panties. there's silence in the parlor except for the sound of fabric being cut. he hands you a small towel to cover whatever you need to, but you just place it to the side. you know what you're doing. choso isn't sure if you're an angel or the devil.

he makes sure his ponytails aren't loose and puts on some nitrile gloves, black like his hair. you're wondering if you should break the silence, make some small talk, put the boy out of his misery, or just let the tension simmer.

"i really like the face tattoo thing you've got going on." he snaps up to look at you, then immediately reddens. his fingers hover above the black stripe across his face.

"yeah?"

"mhm." you lift your hand, thumbing his cheek where the tattoo ends. he's still the entire time.

you'd be the death of him.

with careful hands, he sanitizes the part of your hip where the tattoo would go on. he may have taken a little bit longer than usual, his fingertips pressing into your skin with the thin layer of an alcohol wipe acting as a barrier. your skin is soft, and he wants to grip your hips more actively. without the façade of a tattooist doing his job.

you're not feeling calm anymore, and in a sudden fit of unadvised decision-making, you grab choso's wrist (this choice was not peer-reviewed by your groupchat, but at the moment you find it in yourself that you don't really care). he startles but doesn't say anything.

"i'm nervous," you murmur. he instantly softens, melts, and reaches out to grab your shoulder in a sort of platonic 'i'm there for you' way. you're not planning to be platonic.

"that's alright lovely, everybody gets nervous before tattoos. it's more common than you think. would you like water?" his voice is soothing, and the way his lips move. you know what you need. you know what would calm you down.

"i know another way we can get rid of my nerves."

"mm, how so?"

"kiss me."

he almost chokes. he looks at your dead serious expression.

he is so fucked.

[sturniozo]

Back To You

“Fuck Matt!” I moan out. Matt’s thrusts get sloppier and messier, and I tangle my hands in his hair, pulling him closer to me. His hips slam against me harshly, rocking the bed, and causing my headboard to slam into the wall with loud thuds, thuds that if anyone else were here they’d know just how good Matt was fucking me.

“So close, Babydoll.” Matt groans in my ear. “So wet for me.” His breath against my ear causes shivers to run down my body, my hips shaking and rocking against Matt’s. “Fuck, you close baby?” Matt asks, his breath on my ear causing the whole thing to happen again. Another groan escapes Matt’s lips.

“I’m close, Matt!” I’m barely able to moan out. Matt groans in my ear as I feel his release in me. My body shivers and my hips buck against his and I scream out his name. “Matt! Oh god!”

He stays still for a solid minute, panting as he hovers over me. He takes a breath as he rolls over beside me, instantly pulling me against him and laying my head on his chest. “You good?” He asks.

I let out a breathy laugh. “I’m good.” I say softly. I position myself more comfortably on his chest, drawing little hearts over his.

“I love when you do that.” Matt says as he runs his fingers through my hair.

“Do what?” I ask, laying my hand down over his heart.

“Don’t stop.” He mumbles, holding my hand his his. I smile softly and begin drawing hearts on his chest once again.

Matt hums softly and he plays with my hair. “What’s up?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He says.

“Something’s up, I can hear you thinking. You do it so little that when it does happen it strains your brain and it’s audible.” I giggle.

“You’re so mean.” He snorts.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” I look up at Matt.

“I’m not thinking about anything.”

“So as usual.”

“Okay we’re done.” Matt laughs as he sits up.

“No! I’m sorry!” I laugh out.

“You’re a jerk.” Matt says as he slips on his shirt.

“Says the guy that tricks me into sleeping with him all the time.” I snort as I sit up and put my own shirt on.

Matt grabs his boxers and steps his legs through the holes. “I didn’t trick you, you willingly got into bed with me.”

I stand up. “The way I remember it, I was crying and you were comforting me.”

“It seems to happen like that a lot lately.” Matt says. He zips up his jeans and sits back down on the bed beside me and I pull my leggings over my hips.

“I know.” I say softly.

“Are you gonna go back to him again?” Matt asks as he puts his hand on my back, beginning to rub small circles.

“No, I’m done with him.” I lie to myself. But Matt and I both know the truth. I’m too head over heels for Alex. There’s no way I could not run when he calls.

“Yeah.” Matt mumbles. He pulls me in and kisses the top of my head. “Well if you ever need more comforting…”

I laugh and hit Matt’s arm. “You’re something else.”

“You’re one to talk.” Matt snorts.

I look up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Matt mumbles. He lays back down on the bed. I only sigh and stand up.

“I guess I’ll go home then?” I go to pick up my bag, and Matt sits up quickly.

“Why?”

“You don’t seem very happy with me right now.” I shrug and swing my bag over my shoulder, only for Matt to take it from me immediately. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“You’re just gonna go sit at home and cry over that idiot for hours. We both know it.”

I roll my eyes and reach for my bag. “Okay, now I really want to go home. Give me by bag, Matt.”

“No.” Matt stands his ground. “I’m not letting you go home just to cry for hours about an idiot you’re just gonna go back to in a week.”

“I’m not going back to him this time.” I look down. “It’s done. Over. Forever.”

“You say that every time.” Matt sighs.

“But this time I mean it. Really.” I insist.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that?" Matt laughs. "Just get back in bed here and-"

"No, Matt." I stop him from finishing his sentence. "I'm going home."

I watch as Matt stands still, his hands balled into a fist and his jaw clenched. "Fine." He says after a moment of silence. "Who am I to stop you?" He hands me my bag and sits back down on the bed. "Just don't come crying to me next time you guys break up."

"We aren't even getting back together!" I yell at him.

"You always do. I bet you that by the end of the night you'll be back with him. And do you know where that leaves me?"

"No, Matt, where?" I sigh.

"Alone, watching the girl I love get hurt by the same jackass over and over again."

I gasp softly as Matt's eyes widen from the realization of what he just said. "The..."

"Don't." Matt snaps. "Just go."

I step closer to him. "Matt-"

"I said go." He says again.

I bite my lip, standing still for a moment, before sighing and swinging my bag over my shoulder. I open the door to his bedroom and leave.

~

It's been three days since I last spoke to Matt. Every minute was even more painful than the last. I just couldn't take it anymore. So here I sit, on my bed, debating my next move.

'Can I see you?' The texts read. Alex. On the one hand, Matt confessed to me, telling me he loves me. I know my feelings for Matt, I know I love him back, I always have. On the other hand, there's something about Alex I just can't resist. I don't know what it is.

I sigh as I stare at the text, shooting back my reply.

'What time?'

The moment I click send, a feeling of dread and guilt floods through my veins. I lean back on my bed, not expecting my phone to ding immediately. I look to see Alex's reply.

'Now?'

I sit up, going to put my shoes on, but stop myself. What am I doing? How can I go back to him? Especially now that I know Matt feels the same way about me as I feel about him. I shake my head. Matt may have felt that way, but after the other day, there's no way he still has those feelings for me.

I tie my shoes and run out the door, getting in my car. I once again think about Matt. How disappointed is he going to be in me when I do this?

I shake my head. It doesn't matter. Matt doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. I start the car, pulling out of my driveway and heading down the street. I get to the ever-familiar stop light. I could go left to Alex's house. Or I could go straight. Just a few more blocks down, and take a right, and be at Matt's house.

The red-light stares into my soul. My hand rests on my turn signal as I bite my lip, and as the light turns green, I go forward. My heart races. I'm going to Matt. For the first time ever, when Alex asked me to go to him, I didn't. I smile to myself. Matt would be so proud.

Or at least that's what I thought. Before I pulled into his driveway to see an unfamiliar car there. I shrug it off for a moment. It must be a girl Chris is seeing or something, maybe just a friend I haven't met yet. I get out of my car, so fast I barely had time to unbuckle my seat belt.

I run to the door, knocking on it frantically. Chris answers. "Is Matt here?" I ask.

"Yeah, but-"

I cut Chris off. "I need to talk to him." I walk in and Chris closes the door behind me.

"Y/N, you need to slow down." Chris walks behind me as I go to Matt's room.

"He's in his room?" I ask as I point at the door.

"Y/N, stop."

"What's wrong?" I ask. I turn to the door as it opens, revealing a half-dressed Matt.

And a naked girl, asleep in his bed. My breathing stops as I feel paralyzed.

"Y/N?" Matt asks. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing." Tears form in my eyes. "I was just leaving." I turn and walk quickly to the front door.

I get to my car before Matt stops me. "What happened, what are you doing here?"

"Nothing, let me go."

"No."

"The other day you couldn't get me to leave, what's different today?" I ask.

"You're crying." Matt says, which cases me to laugh.

"I was crying then too."

"But I don't know why this time."

"Oh, really?" I laugh. "You don't?"

"Is this about that girl?" He asks. "How did you even know I was with her?"

"I didn't." I sigh. "Alex texted me. He asked me to come over today."

Matt rolls his eyes. "And he did his normal jackassery shit and you-"

"No." I cut him off. "I didn't go see him."

"What?"

"I came to see you." I speak.

Matt stands there, stunned. "You did?"

"I didn't go see him. I went to you, and you had a girl in your bed." I look down, holding back the tears. "I'm going to go now."

I get into my car, closing the door and starting the engine. Everything feels slow. Like every second is a minute long, as if it's all in slow motion. Part of me wants Matt to stop me. To open my car door and tell me not to go. But he doesn't.

And he never will.

TAGS: @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chris @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07

[spitdrunken]

man. still have NOT managed to get my hands on the book of bill because it's sold out literally everywhere over here, but have any of you seen the new 'how not to draw' vid on the disney youtube channel that features bill? it really got me thinking.

notes: fourth wall breaking, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, implied sexual content, implied mind control

it's heavily implied that the video takes place in a world where gravity falls is supposedly fictional, like our own. bill literally says he's going to break the fourth wall! because i'm a sucker for fourth wall breaks and characters being aware of their own fandom (to an extent), i simply just HAD to run with this scenario.

i just like the idea of 'you' being just a person, some totally, in the large scheme of things, insignificant human walking the earth. you have a tendency for escapism, perhaps. you have always been drawn to stories. you like gravity falls. maybe it was something you watched while you were younger and recently rewatched, or an interest that had never waned. regardless, bill cipher, charismatic and unapologetically evil villain that he is, is one of your favourites.

you doodle him on the edges of paper when you're supposed to be doing anything else. (regardless of anyone's artistic skills, it's not difficult to draw a triangle with a top hat and an eye, is it?) and in this world, you are hardly the only one who likes him, who, perhaps, ships himself with him, who thinks about him a lot. who makes drawings and writes or reads fic. you don't think it's all that unusual.

in a stroke of luck or, depending on how you look at it, the exact opposite, the universe's idea of a cosmic joke, you are the one to catch bill's eye. (it's, after all, much easier to infiltrate the dreams of someone who already has you on their mind. makes sense, doesn't it? a tentative, wavering link had been formed already.) there, in your dreams, he tells you what to say--triangulum, entangulum. meteforis dominus ventium. meteforis venetisarium--and the next morning, you remember it clear as a memory.

you do it. for funsies. why wouldn't you? you don't expect it to actually work. he's a fictional interdimensional demon. why would it work? but much to your surprise, and horror, because surely a screw must've gotten loose for this to be happening, one of your little doodles has life blown to it. as a response to your summon, a tiny little bill cipher darts across your paper, alive but still confined.

(you've given him an in. now, he only has to take the crack you've opened for him, dig his fingers in, and tear it open.)

oh, he'll be funny! he'll be exactly what you thought of him. perhaps he even voices a line of dialogue you swore you wrote down somewhere days prior. yes, he's read whatever you wrote or read, whatever you looked at. he's keeping it himself for now. it's not easy to inflate his ego further, but you might have succeeded. rather than a meatbag, bill first looks upon you with the eye of someone presented with a puppy. fundamentally lesser, but capable of being something with the right training.

he urges you to make a deal with him and the promise he'll act out whatever fantasy you've been cooking up in that brain of yours, even if it's gross and weird and physically impossible!

he'll warp your dimension to make all of it possible!!! it's great!!! don't worry about it!!!!!!

…you don't do it. you don't touch the paper. you've seen the show, and you aren't stupid. bill nearly balks. he'd expected you to be the easiest mark of all time, but he suppose he forgot that even puppies have teeth. that's fine. he can work with this. because even though you have not let him in yet, and you refuse to shake his hand through the paper, you don't seperate yourself from him just yet.

you could oh so easily take the piece of paper he's on and throw it in the nearest shredder. or set him on fire. in you, he recognises lingering curiosity, and the excitement at having stood out, at being chosen, in one way or another. it's not hopeless yet.

he can play a bit of a longer game, then. he's been at this for a long, long time. he'll tolerate the paper he's on being folded into a little square and tucked into your breast pocket, granting him a view of your life and the world you're living in. (all the time, his hunger grows.) your decision not to throw him away ends up being your downfall. spending so much time with bill, letting him joke around with you, complaining about your problems… it takes a while for you to realise that, for a while now, he has not been speaking out loud anymore, but instead through your mind.

a connection that cannot be cut has been formed in between two of you.

on bill's part, he had thorougly expected to be bored. but perhaps it's your genuine interest in him, not the things he's offering, which he does not often see. (he's been down this road before. won't end well. but...) the sheer mundanity of your life that makes him wish he could twist and turn it all around. or just a random alignment of the stars. the heart doesn't always follow logic. in this scenario, at some point, bill realises that he has become genuinely invested in you, too. and at that point, you'll never manage to slip away. he's already dug in his heels in your mind far enough. you had no adequate protection.

he still wants to take over your world. he still wants to escape the discomforting flatness of the paper you've summoned him in. but, perhaps, you two could share that meatsack of a body of yours, before things get that far.

[canisalbus]

Okay don't mind me, I'm going to yell into ether for a moment. It's four in the morning and I can't sleep and the slow-burn anxiety attack that has been building up all day seems to be finally coming to a head, and I feel like I'm about to crawl out of my skin.

This past month has been challenging. I knew stuff was about to get stressful way ahead of time and tried to mentally prepare for it, but life still managed to kick me in the liver and now that july is over, I'm left absolutely exhausted and frazzled and physically sick. And so goshdarn overwhelmed. Feels like my brain reached it's maximum capacity weeks ago and can't absorb anything new anymore, I'm just trying to get through each day without actively making things worse and all new tasks and information are just sliding off and pooling at my feet.

Acutely speaking, I'm also having a tiny little crisis here in my hands right now. It's silly but I've somehow managed to misplace my antidepressants somewhere and I haven't seen them since Thursday last week. Perhaps at this point I should just go and get them refilled early like a sensible person but some dumb mental roadblock is holding me back, so I'm just sort of stuck in this no-meds limbo. I'm normally seeing two separate therapists on irregular basis and both of them are currently unavailable until further notice and my sentiments about that aren't too gleeful.

I miss drawing, it's such an important part of my life and identity, but I haven't been able to do any of it lately and I feel like I'm strugging to get back in the right headspace for it. Every time I try to set aside a little bit of time to doodle something, my anxiety spikes massively and I have to try to do something else to calm down and it kills me.

I'm already dreading the upcoming winter. Every year my mood worsens with seasonal depression and I know I only have a limited number of months before life switches to survival mode again, and I have no choice but to try to live with that looming in the horizon.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm VI

Alexia Putellas x Reader

*Smut: Dom!R, Sub Alexia, Top!Alexia, Bottom!R, Leash and Collar, Oral, Nipple Play, Strap-on, Strap-on Riding, Thigh Riding, Anal Fingering*

Summary: You take control

Having Alexia on her knees for you is not unusual.

It's actually quite common.

She looks up at you with this wide eyes, mouth hanging slightly open with no thoughts but how to please you.

Usually, that is.

Right now, you can tell she's not settled well.

You hadn't been expecting it in the slightest. You had taken a long shift at the hospital last night and come straight from there to your office at the Barcelona training grounds to go through some paperwork.

That's when Alexia came in like a whirlwind, locking the door behind her and getting on her knees for you behind your desk.

She's not looking up at you like usual. She's not even looking at you at all. Her forehead is pressed against your thigh as you stare down at her in shock.

"Ale?" You say softly," Ale, baby, what's wrong?"

It's not hard to get Alexia on her knees at home. She's more than happy to sit there all day if you want but this is the first time she's done it at work.

You hear a soft sniffle.

Ordinarily, you'd coax her out of hiding but she's crying and you know she hates letting you see her cry.

So, you let her hide her face away against your leg as she sits on her knees while you gently thread your fingers through her scalp.

"It's okay, baby," You say every so often," It's okay. I'm here. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"My knee," She chokes out and you freeze.

You slip into doctor mode very quickly.

Alexia wouldn't be on her knees now if she was in pain. She knew better than that and you received no texts from the staff earlier that said she had any discomfort.

"Your knee? Ale, what's wrong with your knee?"

"I don't know!" She still hasn't looked at you but that's okay. "What if it never goes back to normal?!"

It's been a rocky road for Alexia's injury. You knew this but you also knew it had healed up well. You knew that this wasn't a physical thing. It was purely psychological.

"You scored in the Champion's League Final on that knee," You remind her gently, carding your fingers through her hair," You're all healed up, baby. What's really going on?"

Alexia was trusting her knee again, you knew that. For her to be overthinking it now just means that something else is going on.

She draws in a shuddering breath and finally looks up at you, eyes sparkling with tears.

"I...Amor, I..."

"What is it, baby? You can tell me."

Her hands bunch up into fists on her lap. "I'm so overwhelmed! Do that Alexia, do this Alexia. Captain Alexia. Player Alexia. Barcelona. Spain. Olympics."

The words tumble out of her now and you lightly tug on her hair.

She falls silent immediately, staring up at you again as you take a tissue to mop up her face.

"Do you need someone else to be in charge for a bit?"

She nods.

"In what way, Ale?" You ask.

You've settled Alexia like this before. You knew all the inner workings of her brain but, still, there's two ways you could go.

One was the domestic route. You could send her home with a list of mindless tasks to complete. Do the dishwasher. Fold the laundry. That kind of mindless repetition of tasks to take her mind away from football.

The other was the sexual route. You were wary about that though. Only Alexia knew if she was in the right headspace for that. If she wanted it like that, she'd have to tell you.

You had no problem giving it to her if that's what she wanted but she'd have to make it clear to you that that is what she craved.

"I..."

"Think about it," You say, bringing her head back to rest against your thigh," I've still got work to do so take all the time you need."

So, Alexia sits on her knees for you as you complete your paperwork.

You know her mind's made up there, just by the way her breathing has evened out and the way she leans more heavily against your leg.

"Can you let me fuck you, amor?" She asks," Please?"

"Go home, Alexia."

"Wha-"

"And I want you to go in the toy drawer and decide what you want us to use tonight." You give her clear orders, already working to settle her for what you know will be a long night. "I want you to think about what you want to get out of tonight so you can tell me when I get home. I've still got work to do."

She nods, shakily getting up. She lingers at your side for a moment before," Can I have a kiss first, please?"

"Of course, baby. You're so good for asking."

Already tension leaks out of her frame as you pull her in for a kiss.

You don't try to drag it out but you don't rush through your work either. It would be a disservice to the other players and to Alexia.

She needs this time to decompress on her own, to go through her feelings even as she works through the instructions you'd given her.

You stretch as you get out of your car, walking up the stairs to the house and unlocking the door.

"Alexia!" You call out," I'm home!"

You don't expect an answer.

You don't get one.

You hang up your coat and settle down on the sofa.

Alexia kneels at your feet and finally, she's looking at you like how she usually does.

Her pouty lips are parted in a dazed smile and her eyes glisten with desire rather than tears. Her hands lay resting on her legs though you see them twitch a little as you unbutton the top of your shirt.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Alexia? You're in the right space?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Do you remember your colour system?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"Green for continue. Yellow to slow down. Red to stop."

"And you know you can use them whenever? Even when it's not a check in?"

"Yes."

"What colour are you now?"

"Green."

You look over at the coffee table to see what she's picked out. The strap, obviously. It's her favourite thing to wear when she fucks you. She always gets the same starstruck face whenever you help her put it on.

There's a little bullet vibrator there that you know Alexia loves on her nipples.

Her leash and collar are there too. Usually, they both hang up on the inside of your closet door. They don't come out often but their position on the table now lets you know all you need to know about what Alexia's craving tonight.

You pick them both up and spread your legs, pointing between them.

Alexia fills the space instantly.

"You want your collar on?" You tease.

"Yes, please."

"Such good manners."

The collar had been an impulse buy years ago when you and Alexia had first started experimented. A simple black collar with a little tag.

'Ale'

Nothing else.

Not Alexia. Not Alexia Putellas. Not Captain.

Just a simple Ale, like she was to you now.

"You changed," You note as you clip it around her neck, eyes dragging down to appreciate the lace covering your wife's body.

"I did," Alexia says, dipping her head a little in embarrassment," Is that...okay?"

"You look beautiful, Ale," You say," So beautiful. I'm so lucky to have you."

Her cheeks flush red like every time that you praise her.

That's what she needs tonight.

To be praised.

"But I fear I'm a bit overdressed," You say, teasingly clicking your tongue," Help me out."

Her hands are instantly on your trousers. They're trembling a little in their haste to unbuckle your button. Her fingers keep missing in entirely and you force down your laughter.

You tug on the leash, winding it around your hand so there's little slack.

"Slow down, Ale," You say," Take your time. Breathe."

She sucks in a trembling breath before she finally catches your button. You lift your hips up to help her pull them down.

The desire in her eyes has tripled tenfold and it's almost like she's seeing you for the first time even though this is a dance you've taken together for years.

You lean forward and snatch the bullet vibrator up off the table as you unbutton your shirt and strip off your bra until you're sitting there only in your underwear.

She whines, something low and deep in her throat as you run the vibrator over your pebbled nipple.

A soft moan escapes you and Alexia shifts a little on her knees.

"Are you being impatient again, Ale?"

"No."

You tug firmly on her leash and she corrects herself.

"Yes...Sorry, you're just so pretty."

It's amazing that after so many years you can both still have the same effect on each other because you can feel heat rush to your face at her simple words.

"You're so pretty too," You say a bit breathless as you push the vibrator a bit firmer against you.

"Thank you."

You look at her through hooded eyes. Hers keep drifting from your face to your breasts and back down to your underwear like a ping pong ball.

She's doing a good job at not moving without permission though but it was time to put her out of her her misery.

You remove your underwear and point.

She face breaks into a smile but, still, she doesn't move.

"Go on, Ale," You tease," You've been a good girl. Come and get your reward."

That's the thing about Alexia.

She just adores making you cum.

You could tell that she wanted to just dive straight in but she didn't. Restraint was something that came with age, something she had learnt over years of worshipping your body.

She kisses up your thigh, occasionally stopping to lightly nibble and bite at the flesh there. She stops in front of where you wanted, where you needed her.

"You're wet," She says, reverence leaking into her tone.

You'd been wet the moment you'd sent her back home without you. You'd been wet as you drove home.

Right now though, you're pretty sure you're dripping.

"Because I need you, Ale," You say, breathless as you stare down at her, tugging slightly at her leash in impatience," Please, don't you want to make me feel good?"

She whimpers a little at your words.

Her tongue laps around your hole in brushing sweeps and you whine at each pass. She moans as well, at the taste of you, and finally dips her tongue into your hole.

You pull on the leash, forcing her even closer to you and you can feel her smile against you.

You ignore it, desperate for her as her tongue dips into you again. She explores you like this is the first time you've let her do this.

Like you're some kind of goddess whose altar you're letting her worship at.

Your eyes flutter closed and the sight that you see when you open them is beautiful.

Alexia laps at you with vigour, going from your hole to your clit and back again. She's always been good with her mouth, always known how to take you to pieces, brick by brick.

"Ale," You whine," Ale, so-so good."

With every bit of praise from you, Alexia tries harder, desperate to impress you and finally bring you to the peak.

"Do you want me to cum for you, Ale?" You ask, still trying to tease despite the way that she's steadily building you up and bringing you closer and closer. "Want me to cum in your mouth?"

She whimpers at that and redirects quickly to your swollen clit, focusing all of her energy as she tugs it into her mouth, tongue flicking it teasingly as you tug on her leash to somehow bring her closer than she already is.

You don't give her any more warning than that as your hips rut against her face.

She brings you down slowly before bringing her tongue down in broad strokes to clean up the mess she's made of you.

You loosen your grip on her leash, panting. Your chest rises and falls as you flutter on her tongue with aftershocks.

"Good girl," You say as you catch your breath," Up here now, Ale." You pat your lap and she scrambles on.

Her face is covered in your juices and she looks dazed. Happy but still a little dazed and you take her by the chin into a soft kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue.

"You did so well," You say against her lips," So good to me. So, so good."

She preens at the praise before breaking off into a whine as you unclip her bra and press the vibrator against her in quick succession.

She jolts a little at the shock of it, pressing closer to you and you laugh.

"Does that feel good, Ale?" You ask," Yeah?"

She nods.

"What colour are we now?"

"G-Green," She whimpers out as you switch to her other nipple," So green."

"Green, huh?" You lean forward and suck her now abandoned nipple into your mouth.

You flick your tongue against it teasingly and an even more broken whine escapes your wife.

You can feel her wetness through her underwear and you can't help but laugh, releasing her nipple with a wet pop.

"How are we feeling? Is your brain mush yet?"

She whimpers.

"Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to empty your head for a bit? Want to be my good girl?"

"Y-Yes. Am-Am I being a good girl?"

"So good, Ale. Perfect actually. Doing whatever I say. I think that deserves a reward, doesn't it?"

"Please, I've been good!"

"I know. Now, what do you want that reward to be?"

It takes her a while to get the words out, with the way you've got a vibrator pressed to one nipple and are twisting and pulling the other.

"What was that, Ale? I couldn't hear you."

"I...I wanna..." She's panting hard, each word punctuated with a soft moan of pleasure. "Wanna fuck you, please. With the strap."

"You want to fuck me with your cock?" You tease, kissing up her neck and leaving a trail of marks. "Are you sure? I could return the favour right here, right now."

"Want to fuck you with my cock," She parrots back to you," Please! I've-I've been so good."

"I suppose you have been following all my instructions," You muse," And you made me cum so well. Could you do it again with your cock?"

"I could!" She insists, rutting her hips against yours," Please, amor! Let me prove it!"

You nudge her slightly. "Go on then, Ale. I'll wait upstairs for you."

You take your time going to your bedroom, a smile on your face as you hear Alexia scramble to put on the strap and follow after you.

You've unclipped her leash, hanging it back up on the closet door but you let her keep her collar on as she stumbles into the room, almost tripping over her own feet.

She's a bit like a puppy, you think in the back of your mind as you kiss and back into the bed.

Overeager and excitable.

There's no need for lube, not with how wet you were so you lean against the pillows and spread your legs.

"Come on, Ale," You taunt," I want you to fuck me."

Her throat bobs as she stares in silence, that same awestruck look on her face, like she can't believe that she's the one that gets to fuck you into the mattress every night.

"Unless," You say," You don't want to be my good girl?"

"I want to be your good girl! Let me be your good girl."

"Then come and fuck me."

She pushes in slowly, collecting your wetness as she eases into you all the way to the hilt.

The strap brushes against her clit and she moans like you. Her fingers intertwine with your own as she slowly withdraws again.

It always takes a little bit for her to find her rhythm but she knows she's found it as your head tilts back into a throaty moan.

"So good, Ale," You say," You fuck me so well."

Alexia's attention wasn't on you though. Or, at least, not on your face.

She was hypnotised by the way that your pussy swallowed every inch of her cock, the way that her hands gripped your hips for leverage and the way you inhaled every time she went up to the hilt.

The strap brushes up against her clit and Alexia's broken moans mingle with yours.

"Slow, Ale," You remind her.

Alexia's always had a problem with her impatience, especially when it came to you.

You'd always preferred a slow fuck at first, trying to teach her patience.

Alexia didn't listen, as always. It was always like this when she had a strap.

She was submissive to you any other time, grateful and happy to let you take control but a cock on her hips and suddenly she thought she was in charge.

She thought that she could set the pace and make the decisions.

No.

You wouldn't let that happen.

You could see the moment she decided to disobey you, to try and take control again, undermining this whole thing. She'd wanted you to turn her brain off, to make all the decisions so she could decompress and forget about all the pressure that she usually thrived under.

You could see the moment she decided to stop thinking with her head and start thinking with her cock.

Her pace picks up and you whine in pleasure.

Ordinarily, you might allow Alexia this, you might allow her to have this small bit of control but not tonight.

"Last-Last chance, Ale," You warn through a deep moan when she hits that special spot inside you," Don't you want to be good for me?"

Her pace falters a little but doesn't slow down completely. You look into her eyes and she looks into yours.

She picks up again and you roll your eyes.

It's easy to roll her onto the bottom, your legs wrapping around her hips to flip her onto her back. It's even easier when you realise Alexia is craving to be put into her place.

You're on top now, a hand pressed down onto her chest.

You grab her collar.

"This," You say, lifting your hips up and slamming them down again," Means your mine. Being mine means I'm in charge. Not you."

A breathless whimper escapes her as you ride her cock.

"That means you just get to empty your head and let me decide how things go," You say," You know that, Ale."

"S-Sorry," She whines, head thrown back as you lift up again.

"That's okay. Even good girls need to be reminded of their place sometimes."

She whines into your mouth as you work yourself up and down on her cock.

There was no rush on it on your part.

Alexia was still your good girl but this was still a lesson about disobeying you.

You would have let her cum if she'd been good. She could have fucked you straight through to her own orgasm but now you wouldn't give her that curtsey, focused solely on climbing the peak yourself.

It comes maybe a bit too quickly and maybe you put on a bit of a theatrical moan as you tip over just to make sure Alexia knows that you don't need her fucking you to make you cum.

"Was that good, baby?" You ask as you lazily make out with her, still seated on her cock.

"Yes, amor."

"Do you feel better?"

"Yes..."

"But..."

Her throat bobs a little in nervousness and you wait her out.

"Can...Can...I want to..."

Voicing what she wants has always been difficult for Alexia so you gently kiss along your neck as you wait.

"Can I ride your thigh?"

You chuckle. "And I suppose you want something else with that too, do you, pretty girl?"

Alexia's face somehow gets redder. "Please."

"Come on, baby. Come be a good girl and get off on my thigh."

Alexia lazily takes off her strap as you reach into the bedside cabinet for lube.

"Colour?"

"Green."

She lowers herself onto your thigh and you tense the muscle.

You think this is Alexia's favourite way to get off. She didn't really enjoy taking the strap like you did and while she enjoyed you eating her out, nothing got her off quicker than riding your thigh with fingers in her arse.

"No," She says softly as you uncap the lube.

"You don't want my fingers, Ale?"

"No, I do...I...

She reaches for your hand, sucking in your first few fingers as she rode your thigh.

"Oh, Ale," You groan at the sight," You're spoiling me baby. You want my fingers in your arse that badly?"

She pushes further into your leg in answer.

"You're so good, baby. You doing so well."

You tease her rim gently with spit soaked fingers as she whines.

One finger first to ease her open, rocking it into her arse gently.

The angle is a little tricky, with your arm stretched all the way over her back as Alexia whines and whimpers into the crook of your neck but you've done this plenty of times.

You can make it work.

When the second finger joins the first, Alexia rocks herself more fiercely against your thigh.

"You're doing so well," You whisper to her," Taking my fingers so well. You're so good to me, Ale. Letting me look after you like this."

You don't need to do much, just hold your fingers there as Alexia rocks herself back and forth towards her peak.

"You're so good for me, Ale. You're so good."

You keep up your steady stream of praise even as she lets out a guttural moan.

You bring her down gently, easing your fingers out of her arse once she's fully relaxed and settled against you.

"Do you feel better, baby?" You ask," Was that okay?"

"So okay," Alexia mumbles, scattering kisses against your collarbone," Thank you, amor."

"You know I'm here to make you feel better, baby. I love you."

"Love you too."

You reach for her collar and she stops you.

"Want to keep it on for a bit longer," She says and you place your hand on her back.

"Okay, baby. Only for a little longer. We've got to get you into the bath."

[sunshineandspencer]

A kind of look

A/N: Trying to act normal while my brain is in the realm of Spencer-Ville is impossible. The spirits possessed me, have a oneshot. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Apparently Spencer has been looking at her a little different recently. 

Word Count: 898

Warnings: nothing really just fluff

“He’s looking at you.”

“What, Spence? Yeah, I know.”

“No. I mean he’s looking at you.”

They’d been saying this recently, Emily and Morgan. Making little comments that didn’t quite make sense, and trying to convince her of something that obviously isn’t real. 

Somehow, drunkenly, she’d told Penelope about her crush on Spencer. Which resulted in her telling Derek, and him telling Emily, until it became one big family affair to try and get them together. 

Even Kevin, who she barely even knew in the first place, made a passing comment about how cute they are together. 

It’s aggravating, she wants to throttle them, but obviously that’s not allowed. 

Most recently, Emily has been trying to convince her that Spencer looks at her differently. Which sounds completely insane. 

Spencer Reid looks at her the same way he always has, politely and just a little to the right of her eyes. It’s adorable and endearing, making her want to smother him with affection until he drowns in it. But unfortunately he just doesn’t feel the same. 

No matter what Emily tries to tell her. 

Granted, she has felt his eyes on her for quite a while now, but that’s pretty normal. 

He zones out staring at people sometimes, has freaked out a lot of LEOs that way. So she doesn’t take it personal when he zones out in her direction, getting lost in his own beautifully massive brain. 

It’s completely normal, and when she turns around to indulge Emily’s insanity, she’ll see it. 

When their eyes met, she was immediately made aware of the fact that it was, in fact, very different. To the point where she’s pretty sure she’s forgotten how to breathe. 

His eyes almost seemed to be blurred at the edges, gazing at her so gently that she felt like she would break if he looked away from her.

So this is what they meant, Christ, it’s suffocating. But in a way that makes her want to go and ask him to help her breathe. 

And when Spencer finally realises that he’s staring into her eyes rather than admiring her from afar, he stiffens. Eyes darting away to focus across at his computer monitor, scrambling for something to hold onto and sending his pencil hold flying. 

Only drawing more attention to himself as he dove to the floor, searching for pencils and a way out. 

Just as he thought the worst was over, hunched on his hands and knees under his desk, holding his hands to his burning face, he felt someone poke his shoulder. 

Hands falling away, hoping it was just Morgan come to tease him. And then nearly choking at her being crouched down with him. Tripping over her name as he forced it out. 

“Wha- what are you doing down here?”

Smiling softly, she held up a handful of pencils that she’d collected from around the room. The blush on both their faces being an equal match. 

“Helping? Sorry if I freaked you out just then.”

“No!” He lurched for her and found her shoulders, clinging tightly as she met his gaze. “You could never freak me out! I just.. wasn’t expecting you to look back at me.. that’s all.”

Oh yeah, she’s completely smitten by this man. Gently easing his hands from her shoulders so that his imbalance on his knees doesn’t take them both out. He’s called the human bambi for a reason, and it’s not just because he’s cute. 

Tilting her head gently, she shuffled a little closer until they were both under the desk. All conversation is suddenly being muffled around them, they’re in their own little bubble where nothing else matters. That bright smile of hers pulling at her lips in a way that makes his knees weak. 

Not ideal when they’re the thing he’s currently supporting himself with. 

“And.. why were you looking at me, Spence?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

He didn’t even need to think about it, which is what made her utterly melt. If it weren’t the middle of the day, and she couldn’t already feel Emily’s judging eyes on her ass, she would’ve dragged him down to stay under his desk forever. 

Instead, she leant in and pecked his cheek, grinning when she pulled back and he was looking at her again. 

Jesus, she’s never felt more beautiful than when he’s looking at her. Hopefully she’s playing off her nerves well, because she feels like she’s going to implode. 

“Takes one to know one gorgeous. Get back to work.. you can ask me out later.”

She got up first, crawling out from under the desk and practically skipping back to Emily. Whereas Spencer was stuck for a long time, hand to his cheek and daft smile on his face. 

Until Morgan said his name and he moved before he could think. Smacking his head onto the table in his rush to clamber back to being vertical. 

The rush of standing up so fast and having his cheek kissed sending him a little dizzy.

“Y-Yeah?”

“We’ve got a case, let’s get to the jet so you can make your ‘love me’ eyes at your girl.”

Spluttering something that didn’t even manage to come out as words, he just had to follow along. Wondering just how long it would have to be to class the time as later, already knowing exactly where he’s going to take her.

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