#smut adjacent

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about:

Biker!Bucky (who also happens to be your brother’s best friend) comforting you when you accidentally get way too high and think you’re going to die. 

TW: Recreational drug use (weed), talks of death (reader feels like they’re dying), virgin reader, suggestive

The illicit baked goods were handed over with very clear instructions, only eat HALF. But you were so hungry, and the brownie was surprisingly good, and what would really be the harm in eating a whole instead of a half? Death. Inevitable death would be the harm. 

There’d been a very pleasant twenty-five minutes where it felt as if you were dancing on air, now you could barely get any- breathing shallow, chest tight, head heavy. This was it. Goodbye, cruel world. You knew there was little to be done so you decided to embrace the inevitable, if you acted quickly maybe you could go in your sleep. So you filled your cats food bowl, pressed a quick kiss to her head, and crawled into your hammock to await the end- but wait, wait you couldn’t go with regrets, that was a sure fire way to come back as a ghost and you did not want to haunt your crappy walk up forever. No, no regrets. 

So you called James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, your brother’s Bucky. Bucky who lived only a few blocks away, Bucky who could send you off without regret. He picked up on the third ring, and didn’t get much in edgewise after a hesitant “Hello?” 

“Bucky! Bucky I’m dying and I need you to come over right now. The doors unlocked.” You’d hung up before he could ask any questions, best to save your breath, you reasoned. For his part Bucky had politely but firmly asked the girl currently occupying his bed to leave, and made for the door, tugging on gray sweats as he went. While he was positive your dumb ass wasn’t dying he wasn’t willing to leave you in a distressed state. 

When he kicked off his bike and made it inside he’d found you curled up in your hammock, clinging to your cat, eyes squeezed shut; he’d grabbed your attention with a gruff “Bug?” You’d shot up, furry feline friend taking off with a displeased hiss at the sudden rocking motion; “Thank God, Bucky! Get over here, I don’t have much time.” He’d crouched down next to your hammock, bringing his cool metal hand to your cheek, brushing away some stray hairs and taking note of your blown out pupils; “What the fuck are you on?”

“It- it was supposed to only be half the brownie, but I ate it all, I’m such an idiot and now-” He bit back a laugh realizing you were just stoned off your ass, not wanting to add insult to injury as your eyes welled with tears “-now I’m dying but I can’t go yet, Buck, I can’t, because if I die full of regrets I’ll have to haunt this stupid place forever.” 

“For Christ’ sake, Bug, you’re not dying, you’re just stoned.” 

With an adamant shake of your head you reached down and grabbed his flesh hand, pressing the palm of it flat to your chest as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over with a warbling hiccup; “I- I’m not, I am but I’m not- I know what death feels like.”

His mouth popped open in mock surprise; “Oh, you do? Because you’ve experienced it so many times?” 

Your bottom lip quivered as you glowered pathetically at him, “D-don’t be mean to me. Not right now.” Torn between pushing the issue and humoring you he chose to go with the latter. 

“Okay then, Bug, no regrets. How can I help?” 

With a small watery smile you turned in the hammock to fully face his kneeling form; “We’ve got to have sex-”

“Jesus fuck!” Your sincere expression, tear stained cheeks, and glassy eyes awakened something dark within him, pleasure spiking within his groin and pulling him to half mass even as he adamantly shook his head no. Seeing his refusal you began teetering on the brink of tears again; “Please Bucky, please, you have to fuck me, it has to be you. I don’t want to die a virgin and I love y-” 

Quicker than your sluggish brain could process the cool fingers of his left hand wrapped around your mouth, silencing you as his other hand smoothed across the top of your head and down to cup your cheek, thumb stroking it in small even passes. He took three steadying breaths, eyes clenched shut, before he met your gaze; “Shut up. We are not having this conversation right now.” You whined behind the gag of his hand, but he just shook his head firmly in return, so much for humoring you. “Bug, you are high as a fucking kite. So here’s what’s going to happen; I’m going to go get you a drink, and then you’re going to sleep. End of.”

He stood abruptly, moving towards the door of the bedroom as you pleaded with him to come back and take you, promising he could do whatever he wanted as long as he was inside you. You didn’t stop rambling until he stormed back in with a glass of water, towering over your prone form. “Listen to me,” he hissed “when I finally fuck you the only thing you’ll be high on is my cock, so do me a favor and shut the fuck up about it so I can take care of you until then.” 

AN: In hindsight I’ve taken some liberties with the use of the word “comforting.” 

[greenishghostey]

Prompt lol

"Are you humping me?" "...maybe."

The good shit right here 👌

///

Most people would look at Eddie and assume that he was a slob. The town’s running theory about how he lived was close to that of a feral raccoon in a restaurant dumpster.

However, that could not be further from the truth. Eddie was messy - who wasn’t at the best of times. But he was never dirty. He always made sure to do the dishes, hang up laundry and vacuum when needed.

Eddie “domestic goddess” Munson. That’s what you liked to call him while he dashed around doing chores because you showed up to his trailer too early.

There was something oddly attractive, almost sexy, about watching Eddie clean. He usually changed into comfortable clothes that he didn’t mind getting wet. An old Slayer t-shirt and navy pyjama pants with one of the back pockets missing. The pyjamas hung low on his hips and shifted perfectly when he walked.

After a magnificent spaghetti and meatball dinner, Eddie insisted on doing the dishes because you were the guest. He always seemed to forget just how much time you actually spent at his.

With his back to you, Eddie hunched over the soap-filled sink. The muscles in his back moved as he scrubbed at the dried tomato sauce on the bowls. His hair was loosely tied back so he wouldn’t need to keep shaking it out of his face.

The guy was obscene. And he was doing the dishes. It amazed you just how effortlessly alluring he was. Even in the most mundane moments, there were little flecks of saccharine intimacy.

The sweetness of the situation was comforting, and calming too. But you had a much better method of expressing just how much you appreciated his domestic efforts.

“Babe, can you bring the glasses over too?” Eddie asked, gesturing behind his back at you and the dinner table. You were already silently on the prowl towards him. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.

“I’m gonna leave mine out. Need more lemonade.” You replied, keeping your voice quiet to imply distance as you closed in on your target.

“You've had two glasses already! I only got like half of one because you had to take a leak-" Eddie was just about to turn around to point a soapy finger at you, but it was too late. You had launched your attack.

Your arms snaked around his waist as you pulled yourself impossibly close to his back. You reeled your hips back and started humping Eddie like some feral animal in heat. Exaggerated moans and groans were also included - it added an element of dramatic flare that he would no doubt appreciate.

"Are you humping me?" Eddie laughed, standing still and peering over his shoulder at you. He was glad that you could be such a little weirdo with him.

"...maybe." You did your best to imitate his sex noises - groans and a wonderful amount of whimpering. "You're so wet, couldn't help it." It wasn't a lie, his hands were dripping, and some of the water had gotten on his t-shirt.

"Uh-huh, all for you," Eddie whined, trying his best to imitate your sex noises. Douchebag that he was. "You wanna feel how wet I am?" was he actually getting off on this? He couldn't be.

Eddie wasn't getting turned on - well, at least not entirely. He had about a half-boner going. The moment that you started to slow down in your thrusts against his ass was when he struck. A pile of dish soap bubbles were pressed into your chest as Eddie cackled like some mischievous gremlin thing.

"God, you bitch!" You shrieked, swatting at Eddie as he continued to basically massage your boobs. The ulterior motives were all too clear.

"Yeah, call me that again. Fuck, I'm gonna cuuuuuum." He moaned and giggled, now humping at your thigh with a firm grip around your waist - you weren't going anywhere.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Thinking about running into Iida at the community gym and you two are the only ones in there.

He throws words around like "written warning", "curfew" and "class representative responsibilities".

If only he knew you were staking the place out, waiting for him to be the last one working out.

Just hoping he'd give your bare ass a little reprimanding.

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Title board created by the wonderful @mochie85!

Lesson Seven

After a tragic end to a horrible encounter sends shockwaves through your core, Loki suggests a special way he can take care of your wounded soul.

**MASTERLIST HERE** Pairing: Soft!Dom!Loki x F!Reader Content Warnings: smut, extensive mentions of death, euthanasia, and death-related philosophy, some dark content (though the characters won't be), exile, moodiness, smut, kinks of various flavors (look for specific chapter warnings), trauma and mental illness, reader is a captive, reader has a body count

CHAPTER-SPECIFIC WARNINGS: Reader is injured, smut-adjacency mixed with comforty/fluff (Loki bathes Reader)

You couldn’t move a muscle. You couldn’t do so much as breathe. Your eyes were locked on the gun pointed at you from no more than ten feet away, as if even blinking was letting it out of your sight for a moment too long. 

Brunnhilde immediately threw up a hand. “She’s got nothing to do with any of this.”

Your breathing became heavy as you very slowly began to rise out of your chair, throwing your hands up in surrender. “I’m an American!” you protested. “Human! Mortal! M…muggle?”

“Did you kidnap her?” asked Jonah, turning to the King but keeping the gun on you.

You shook your head. “No, I’m here because I want to be. For a…um…project.”

“The Devil whispers in her ear!” cried a woman from beyond the stoop. 

“Oh, shut up,” murmured Brunnhilde. 

“The Flock is a calling from God,” chimed in the woman standing next to Jonah, her long, tangled blonde hair in a braid that was caught in her jacket zipper. You could see through her clothes that she carried a child, and from the looks of her, it was far from her first pregnancy. “So much death and chaos has happened since Iron Man was created, the schematics probably drawn from Satan’s hand.” 

“We were made in His image, not superheroes!” called another from the assembly. 

“ENOUGH!” Loki shrieked, sending gasps, tremors, and steps back from most of The Flock. Only Jonah and the woman beside him stood firm. “Leave her be! Your qualms are with the King…and I.” 

“You’ve all been here too long, demons!” said the woman. “My husband is a prophet of the Lord. Heed him and leave this place before we purge it.”

No one else could see it, but the thick gray tendrils of your lethal gift were wrapped like snakes about your fingers and wrists (not that you needed to see it to know it was there and at the ready). Oh god…

“Hell itself originated in your realm,” said Jonah. “Your own sister bears the name. A massive horned firebeast set about a prophecy on your city. Tell me, how do you dispute your dark purpose now? 

Loki bit his lip. The Flock did its research, that was certain. Almost as if one of their own was among the Asgardians…

Loki stood tall and handsome, ready to reroute a comet for you, the slightest green tinge sparking at his fingers. Jonah, in his boldness, managed to walk right past the angered-but-now-cautious King, still looking right at you as he advanced with a frightening intensity. “You’re going to come with us, then--”

“--NO!--” Loki lunged forward. 

“--Ivar?” suddenly called Mrs. Olssen, looking at her husband, who was gripping his chest, pale and sweaty. Her voice was almost too strong for her delicate, elderly condition. “Elskan? What is it?”

Everyone stopped, even Jonah, distracted by the sudden convulsions that sent Ivar Olssen spasming in his seat, his trembles nearly knocking over the tea table in front of him. 

“Heart…pain…chest…” was all he could say. 

You noticed something odd about Ivar, as did Loki. For a man in the middle of a presumed heart attack, the golden seidr beginning to grow in the man’s palm was a bit curious. Jonah and The Flock may not have been able to see magic, because none of them suspected anything but a frail old man dying. 

Ivar winked at you, and the moment Jonah came within arm’s reach of you, you dove under his arm and attempted to bolt. Jonah grabbed your arm, his reflexes quicker than yours. You were jerked back to the floor at his feet, and you felt something in your ankle pull, sending pain up your leg. 

Ivar shot to his feet and thrust his palm, shooting out a golden pulse that sent everyone who was standing to their asses on the floor; even the members of The Flock who were left on the grass spiraled to the ground. Only you and Mrs. Olssen were not affected, as Mrs. Olseen knew her husband of three millennia well enough to duck as soon as she saw the gold palm. 

Brunnhilde, stunned but used to the pulse from her years serving as a valkyrie, came back to her senses first, and pulled a dagger out of her boot as she rose. Loki nearly spiraled right off the porch and into the group below, but he’d managed to only fall against the railing. Meanwhile, you struggled with Jonah, who now was using his position on the ground to grab your injured ankle as you began to sneak away. 

He managed to grip your ankle tightly, and when you first attempted to yank your leg back, the searing pain paralyzed your side, and you cried out, alerting Loki to your distress. 

However, before Loki could do anything, you thrust your hip back, sacrificing more pain so that you could kick Jonah in the jaw, which finally gave you the edge you needed. Wisely kicking the gun out of his hand as well, it went skidding across the floor until it went under the tablecloth and out of sight. 

In spite of your injury, you were able to hop away from the scuffle and begin to run. Descending the steps in an attempt to get around the rest of The Flock, most of the cult members were too afraid of you to do more than dive out of your way. A few of the men holding guns aimed, but in the chaos, their shots went harmlessly into the air. 

There were some, however, in the two-dozen-or-so people there, who had the gall and initiative to leap at you. 

“RUN!” hollered Loki. “Y/N! Go!”

You wanted to go back. You knew they’d only come after you so that Loki would go quietly. He was still vulnerable. But Loki was right (and a god, to boot). His odds of making it out of the fight were higher than yours for certain, with or without your pathetic help. You needed to hide, and fast. 

As you began limping away, one of the attackers succeeded in latching onto you, dragging you to the ground with him. The pair of you rolled around, each trying to gain the upper hand. He happened to be slight in build, possibly even younger, certainly lighter than you. But he was strong, and the little bit of volume he had on his figure was all muscle. You had no form, just the primal need to get away, and it seemed to be enough. You were holding your own. 

Then you felt The Pull, and you went ice cold as you felt your physical strength almost double immediately. 

The boy went limp as soon as he grabbed your naked wrist, his body falling to the side as you quickly rolled away. Gasps immediately rang out as you stumbled to your feet. Everyone had stopped fighting the minute someone understood what had happened. 

“Edgar?!” shrieked a young woman with dark red hair, running forward and lunging herself over the body, examining it as more of The Flock began to close in. 

You looked up. Brunnhilde was shocked. The Olssens both had looks of soft pity for you. Loki looked…pleased? 

Why do you look so satisfied, Loki? I just did it again…a person! A person who was clearly loved…

Your body full of adrenaline, your head full of fear, you finally chose to turn and run full-tilt off into the rows of cabins (in spite of your hurt ankle), figuring it would take too long in clear view to run for the hill. It would be easier to get lost among the buildings. 

Where to go? Where to go?

The library appeared on your right, and you quickly headed for the open window around the back of the cabin. You could see the nervous librarian through the curtains, clicking away at her knitting again. She didn’t raise her voice, but she did jump as you crawled through the window and landed on the floor with a low, pained moan. 

“I’m not here…” you whispered. “Crazy people outside.”

The librarian acknowledged you for the first time and nodded quietly, putting a finger to her lips in agreement. “They always say they will burn my books,” she whispered. “They can try. They won’t win.” 

You couldn’t help but notice she gripped her knitting tighter to her body, the mere mention of The Flock triggering a frightening or sorrowful memory. 

“Thank you,” you smiled weakly, gritting your teeth against the pain of your ankle. The librarian noticed. 

“Go into the back room, where the romances are. Lock the door. Once it looks better, I can send for Loki,” she instructed, going back to her work before you could reply. 

So much for being a frightened little woman, you thought. Is everybody going to command me here?

You did as you were told for safety’s sake, however, and after locking the door, you sighed, taking a book from the shelf and deciding to pass the time in exile reading Asgardian folk stories. Sadly, most of the books were in Asgardian writing, vaguely resembling VIking runes, of course, but it wasn’t as if you could read either. Because of this shortage of English tomes of interest, your mind couldn;t be ripped away from the disturbing fact that you’d killed again. 

It was in defense…That’s what you said before…No! It’s true…Killer…Stop…

Assassin…Murder…

Monster…

The man had someone in his life. Whether the redhead was a wife, sister, or friend, she lost someone she loved today, at your hands. Just like before. Had you learned nothing? 

Hours went by, and the sky began to darken. You’d fallen asleep, only to be jerked awake from a nightmare by the sound of four rhythmic knocks on the door. 

“Y/N…”

Loki!

You rushed to the door to unbolt it, practically throwing the door off his hinges and falling into his waiting arms. “What have I done?” you began to sob. “I did it again…”

“He would have shot you or taken you away, but I knew you’d be distressed about his demise regardless,” Loki whispered, gently stroking your hair and swaying your bodies slowly back and forth. 

“If I weren’t here, you wouldn’t be here, and they wouldn’t have come--”

Loki squeezed you tightly. “That is simply untrue. They’ve been plaguing New Asgard since they arrived. They have a village of their own not more than twenty miles from here. The Sheep usually keep to their side of the forest, I promise.” 

You were babbling a mile a minute now, your fear prying your mouth open as a way for every thought on your mind to come spilling out all at once. “Yeah, but they KNOW me now! They know what I did, and if they were already mad enough at you, just think of what they’ll do to me when they come back!” 

“We will be ready for them when they do,” promised Brunnhilde, who you never realized was standing behind Loki the whole time, watching you turn into a crying little child in Loki’s embrace. “Loki, listen to me.”

He nodded cordially, turning to look her in the eye while still clutching you against his chest.  

“I think you’re a massive idiot and a pustule of a god,” she exclaimed, “But even you have to see how important it is to have me train her alongside you.”

He repeated his nod. “As much as it pulls at my soul, I am inclined to agree with you. But let’s discuss this later.” Silently indicating how you were bordering on hysterics, Brunnhilde bit her lip, a little uncomfortable at the large display of emotion, mumbled something about making a trip to the liquor cache, and left. 

You felt Loki’s hand gracefully rest across your jaw, gently pulling your head up so that he could look into your eyes. 

“You’ve lost the adrenaline from today, I see the energy drain from your face,” he said. “There is no time for more work today, of course, but I think we need to make sure you’re cared for tonight.”

You let yourself go from Loki’s grip, shrugging and trying to wipe away the tears searing your hot, red cheeks. “What does that mean?”

“Today was horrible. I blame those sheep people, but perhaps I aggravated things,” he sighed. “I feel as if I owe you some sweetness, perhaps in the form of a bath?”

You shook your head. “We only have a shower stall, remember?”

“Ivar and Katja have a bathing tub upstairs, a large one. They’ve already offered it to us.”

You finally managed to smile warmly, feeling bashful under your mentor’s concerned, sincere eye. “How did you have time to think of everything when all of this chaos happened around us?”

He shrugged and laughed. “Did you forget that I AM chaos, my dear? Do you think I’ve never gone toe-to-toe with a simple cult before?”

The elderly pair of landlords graciously offered supper for you and Loki as you made your way back to your building in a quickly-darkening twilight. Storm clouds obscured the last bit of sunset, giving the sky an ominous yellowish cloud through the overcast. The air was thick with moisture, and it was difficult to breathe, especially seeing as you were still catching up physically from your hysterics. 

“I’m not sure she’s ready for such a rich meal,” Loki politely declined. “Stew seems to be a favorite of hers, but she’s been through much today.” 

You were grateful for him to speak on your behalf. You didn’t want to upset, scare, or disappoint anyone else today. Plus, you did feel particularly prone to nausea at the moment. 

Katja smiled understandingly and nodded, looking at you with even more pity, which made you feel awkward standing there under Loki’s arm like a downtrodden child he’d picked up off the street. “Very well, dears. I laid out towels and even found a little of my precious Asgardian bath oils for you.”

Loki chuckled. “You were permanently displaced from your home, and your bath oil was what you chose to spare?”

Katja stood tall, with a wise smile on her face. “Memories mean more than clothes. The scent reminds me of my girlhood back home.”

Ivar showed you down the narrow hallway to their master bathroom up on the top floor, a large room with a pit cornered against one wall, inside of which was a walk-in bath about the size of a small jacuzzi: the perfect amount of space for two. As promised, everything had been laid out immaculately for you, making Ivar chuckle. 

“We don't host like we did on Asgard,” he said. “She misses those days sometimes.” With one of his signature hacking coughs, Ivar turned and left you. 

Loki closed the door, then made quick work drawing the bath, adding the oil, and then deciding to add a little bit of bath bubble. “You look weakened,” he remarked as the tub filled, turning to you and taking in your pathetic form. “A warm bath, followed by a long rest and a hearty breakfast will help.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you,” you sighed sadly. “But--”

“--I didn’t ask for your help, and yet you did such a great job defending me,” he whispered, gently kissing your forehead as he began to peek his hands under the hem of your sweater. “You distracted them, like it or not, and they were so afraid of you that they forgot what they came for, which was myself.”

“Really?” 

“And for as much as I would deeply desire to thank you with my prick, such physical exertions would be too much for you tonight. Instead I’ll bathe you and put you to bed.”

You looked down as you realized that he wasn’t trying to seduce you by moving curious fingers toward your breasts, but was only making an earnest effort at removing your clothes. You were briefly thrown off balance as he removed your sweater and cast it aside, and Loki’s attention was drawn down to your ailing ankle. 

“That looks painful,” he remarked. “Once I get you into bed, I’ll fix it. It would be wise to wait to heal you until you are off your feet for good, so you can immobilize the muscle as much as possible.” 

You giggled a little as Loki unabashedly went for your bra next, clearly enjoying the intimate moment but careful not to make anything of it when he exposed your naked chest a moment later. “Since when were you a doctor?” you asked, trying to break the tension. 

“All Asgardian royals have some form of healing seidr, unless you are of a warrior’s build like my brother. My mother trained me somewhat, though I am ashamed to say I fought her much of the way.” Lokis swiftly removed your jeans, but stood back when you were in nothing but panties, unable to avoid the desire to look at you. You smiled gratefully and finished disrobing yourself as he began peeling off his tunic, the spell broken. 

“Why is that?” you asked, curiously.

“I wanted to be in fight lessons like Thor,” he answered. “Frigga wanted at least one of her sons to have healing power, but the going stigma was that healing was for women. I was embarrassed that I had to heal while Thor got to claim glory through battle.” 

Loki was naked before you again, and you fought the urge to ignore his warning about taking it easy. He smiled mischievously, the look on your face betraying your thoughts. “I know, I’m impossible to resist,” he said cheekily. “You want me, but I meant it: we cannot be amorous tonight. Not when your body needs to recover in more ways than one.”

“But you like to control me, make me writhe,” you said softly, your eyes stuck on the little ‘V’ shape his pelvic muscles made below his belly, carving a sharp, defined path to guide a wandering eye directly to his insatiable cock. 

He nodded, scooping you into his arms, pressing his naked body to yours, and burying his nose in your hair. “Yes, indeed. But a good dominant--teacher!--takes care of his student, and treats her like a jewel in his crown, not just a prop for his bed. I want you healthy and strong whenever I take you to bed, understand?”

You nodded, feeling yourself blush. “Thank you. For everything so far.”

Loki twisted his lip. “Don’t thank me just yet. I get the feeling our trials are only just unfolding. But enough talk of that for tonight.”

He turned off the water and climbed down into the tub, splitting his legs and beckoning for you with  hand, which you took as you went in and leaned against his torso, the bubbles smelling faintly of cherry blossom. 

True to his word, Loki made no move on you, although there was no doubt bathing between the god’s solid legs was highly erotic. He tenderly rubbed soap and oil over your skin, gently rubbing it into your back, neck and arms. You allowed him to massage some conditioner that smelled of coconut slowly into your scalp with his fingers, which felt remarkably relaxing, and when you slid forward to dip your hair below the surface to wash it out, you felt him comb his fingers through it, from root to tip. When you re-emerged, you let him braid it behind your neck, tying it off with a black rubber band. 

In addition to feeling incredibly turned on in spite of your exhaustion, you felt revitalized, relieved, the weight of your sins that day washing off of your body and rolling beneath the foam. It was as if Loki was baptizing you, cleansing you of the guilt brought on by the murder. After he finished with your hair, he let you lean against him again, silently letting the hot water turn lukewarm, a calm washing over you. After several more minutes, you felt Loki brush his thumbs softly against your nipples. 

“Perhaps this is a day for a lesson after all,” he finally broke the silence as you let the sensation of his fingers brushing against you make you tingle. “Today, you learn that sometimes, no matter how powerful you are, you can’t control everything. When it gets too heavy, you need to preserve yourself and wash away the dust. A mistake doesn’t make you a bad person.”

You got out and wrapped yourselves in two oversized robes Ivar had left on the doorknob. By the time you went outside to stumble down the other set of stairs leading to the basement, the rainstorm had rolled in, and it was coming down in sheets. Yet the whipping wind accompanying the precipitation was warm. It was the kind of rain one opened the window to at night to fall asleep to. 

You didn’t bother turning on the light in the living room. Loki led you to your bedroom, where he flicked the lamp by your bedside on. He turned down the comforter and let you slide between the sheets, taking off your robe and allowing yourself to sleep nude. 

“I never saw a need for night clothes myself,” he said with a wink, making you smile. 

“It doesn’t surprise me at all that you sleep in the buff, Loki,” you snarked. “It suits your character.”

“My character has one goal tonight, kitten, and it is simply to make sure my student is as strong as she can be so that I can get those blasted joint lessons with Her Worship over with,” he muttered. “Do you need anything? Have a sleep ritual, perhaps? I hear a glass of warm milk is a Midgardian tradition…”

“...I don’t need a drink, but I’d like the window to be open as long as it rains, please?” you asked, pointing up at the small window about six inches under the ceiling, opening up to ground-level. 

He immediately did as you asked, remarking how he also was fond of the sound of rain plopping onto the ground. “Of course, storms are brief on Asgard.” 

“Loki?” 

“Yes, my student?”

“I don't know if I can sleep,” you said sadly. It was true, you felt the exhaustion cement you to the mattress, but you weren’t sure the will to close your eyes was strong enough just yet. 

He looked at you a moment before seemingly deciding upon something. He briefly left you in bed alone before returning with the textbook (The Ethics of Death) you’d gotten from the library. “Without getting too sentimental, my mother would read to me until I fell asleep whenever I was ill or was too wound up to retire from an exciting day.”

You felt your skin go warm with the thought of Loki as a young boy. How sweet was an image of the former intergalactic criminal as an innocent baby! The echoes of the tender memory clearly still resonated in him, and now he was passing on the rare mote of kindness from his youth to you. You were touched. 

“I’d like that.” He gingerly caressed your cheek and leaned down to kiss your brow. 

Smiling peacefully, Loki sat down next to you on the bed, leaned back and crossed his legs, opening the book as you rolled onto your side so that your head was nestled in his shoulder. He opened the book and began where you had last dog-eared the page. “You don’t need to retain any of this,” he insisted. “Just let my voice be your lullaby.” 

Loki was an effective sandman. You felt a gentle pull on your eyelids as his deep baritone sent you off into unconsciousness, safe and comfortable, at least for tonight. 

He didn’t realize that you’d drifted away within the half-hour, and it had been nearly an entire hour before he took a breath from his reading to see you asleep, a small bit of dribble hanging at the edge of your lip. Stifling a chuckle, Loki wiped it away with his thumb lightly enough so as not to disturb you before getting up and turning out the light. 

Before leaving, he pulled the blankets up to your chin and made sure you were really asleep. Then, he was briefly distracted by the rain falling outside, and he stood underneath the open window for several minutes, lost in his internal monologue, the occasional rogue drop of rain hitting his face after making its way within. 

Be at rest tonight, little one, Loki prayed. I’m afraid things just grew exponentially worse for the both of us. 

Finally, he went back to his own room, where he didn’t sleep for a moment the entire night.

Bit of a longer chapter, and plot-heavy. Thanks for sticking with me! And yes, this Loki variant knows how to braid hair. PLEASE REBLOG and COMMENT! Thank you!

@kats72 @violethaze @cheekyscamp @javagirl328 @yelkmelk @mischief2sarawr @buttercupcookies-blog @lokidokieokie @fictive-sl0th @jaidenhawke @caothicshit @holdmytesseract @anukulee @joyful-enchantress @simplyholl @meowmeow-motherfucker @huntress-artemiss @lokisgoodgirl @loz-3 @mjsthrillernp @alexakeyloveloki @linaax @noideakitten @evelyn-rathmore @lovingchoices14 @itzcomplctd7 @praq123 @the-fantasy-loving-angel @alexakeyloveloki @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @admiralatthebowofnails @vanilla-daydreaming @technicallysassyfox @ozymdias @fall-myriad @sititran @lokisdeadcat @blog-the-lilly

[specialinterestshows]

Last chapter of my 3-part Finn Balor x jealous!Damian Priest fic, based on an anonymous request. Next fic I post will be a continuation of Absolute Smokeshow!

Warnings for this section: Biting, dirty talk, hickies

-

My M.O. (Missed Opportunity) (Part 3/3): Hell (In A Cell) And Back

"I did, because I do," Damian wasn't used to feeling so exposed and his face was getting warmer, but now wasn't the time to back out, "Te amo."

To his surprise, Finn started blushing and immediately asked, "For how long?"

“Truth is, I've been into you since you stomped on my chest during Hell in a Cell," Damian chuckled at the memory, "At first I thought that’s why my heart was racing" - he had a wistful expression on his face as he continued - "You kept impressing me during that match. Y cuando uniste a nuestro grupo... I was beyond happy. It wasn’t like the color in the world was dull before, pero cuando entraste en mi vida…”

“It was like everything was brighter, more vivid,” Finn said, catching Damian off-guard, “Just like it was for me when I first started talking to you."

Damian sat in a stunned silence for a moment. Somehow he hadn't fully prepared himself for his feelings to be reciprocated and everything felt a bit surreal.

"You never said anything," Damian finally spoke - not yet looking up or giving into the happiness that threatened to swell in his chest.

"I wasn't sure you were interested in men, to be honest," Finn laughed at himself, "I usually have a good gauge on that sort of thing, but it all goes out the window when I'm interested in someone; I get too wrapped up wondering if I'm just seeing what I want to see" - he gently placed his hand on Damian's, making Damian look up - "Happy to see that's not the case here."

The soft affection in the way Finn was grinning at him broke through Damian's instinct to close himself off, and he smiled back.

Damian closed his hand around Finn’s and looked deep into his eyes before asking, "Can I call you mine?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Finn replied, letting go of Damian’s hand to pull him in by his face for a kiss. The moment Finn’s lips touched his own was better than any other victory Damian had experienced. Finn pulled away to look at Damian lovingly, pale blue eyes glinting in the low light, before kissing him again. Smiling into the kiss, Damian felt Finn’s beard rubbing up against his own stubble and it ignited something in him.

Gripping the back of Finn's head with one hand, he bit Finn's lip, making him moan.

"Eres todo mio, lindo," Damian pulled away to growl in his ear, "Solo mio. Say it."

"I'm all yours, Papi," Finn breathed, blushing when he heard himself, "Only yours."

"Papi, huh?" Damian chuckled, watching Finn adjust the bulge in his pants before Damian's hand moved to gently wrap around Finn's throat, "What else are you into, cariño?"

Damian rubbed his free hand on the outside of Finn's pants and gave his throat a gentle squeeze, laughing when he felt it make Finn harder.

“In the parking lot?" Finn managed to ask between moans and gasps as Damian continued to play with him, "What are we, teenagers?”

"You really want to walk in on Rhea using Dom for "stress relief"?" Damian asked, gripping Finn's hair and kissing down his neck.

"Dunno - could be hot," Finn admitted, letting out a moan and squirming when Damian sunk his teeth into Finn's shoulder and started sucking.

"Dirty boy," Damian smirked as soon as his mouth was free, moving his hand to cradle Finn’s face, "Tell Papi what else you’re into.”

“How much time have you got?” Finn joked.

“For you, mi amor?” Damian answered, tracing Finn’s lips with his thumb, “Todo el tiempo en el mundo.”

[end part three of three]

[kilikina34512]

Get a Room - Drabble

Goodness me, it feels good to be writing and posting something! I have such limited time to do so these days, but I just couldn't help the opportunity to put this thought to words and embrace the tease in me! I still have my bigger work coming out hopefully soon. I'm editing it slowly, but surely when I get an opportunity!

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: After work put you through the wringer, Bucky makes sure to treat your body just right to have you relaxed and pliant beneath him.

Warnings: (kind of a spoiler to the plot but) illusions to smut.

Word Count: 622

Divider courtesy of @firefly-graphics. Make sure to check them out!

"God, yes," you cried out.  "Right there, just like that."

"You like that," Bucky asked.  He pressed in deeper before asking, "What about this?"

All you could do was moan in response as you shoved your face into the couch cushion to muffle your voice.  If it hadn't been for his sensitive hearing, Bucky probably wouldn't have been able to hear your drawn out whimpering plea to not stop as he pressed into you deeper.  This was exactly what you needed after the morning you'd had.  Working alongside Tony Stark made for some beyond stressful situations.  You'd been pinned as one of the reasons that a product had completely failed to meet the launch date it had been scheduled for.  You hadn't been, of course, but that didn't matter when you were dealing with higher ups.  Paired with endless meetings and beyond complicated plans with unrealistic timelines to complete them all, your nerves had taken all that they could for the day.  

Fortunately, a text to Bucky about how awful your morning had been and before you knew it, Bucky had gotten you freed for the afternoon.  Apparently a promise of hanging out and riding their motorcycles was enough to get Steve to convince Tony to let you have the afternoon off.  You weren't sure what the Captain had promised to make it happen, but you planned to make it up to him in thanks as well.

And now, you got to lie face first on the couch, enjoying the way Bucky was drilling into you.  It was just what you needed to take the stress out of your body and bring relaxation back into your world.

"Just relax, kitten," he cooed.  "I'll have you feeling better in no time."  Your brain was lost in a haze though and all you could do was moan out in agreement.  The world has become non-existent and all you could focus on was how Bucky was making you feel.  Unfortunately, you were brought out of it by a voice from behind the couch.

"What the hell are you two doing," Sam asked incredulously.  "This is a public area."

Your brows furrowed as you blinked before taking note of the position you were in.  Lying across the couch in the compound, Bucky was sat back on his heels, his body straddling yours.  He had the back of your blouse pulled out from where you'd tucked it into your pencil skirt and was showing about two inches of your back.  The exact area he'd been drilling his thumbs into your muscles, giving you the best deep massage you'd ever received.  It took a moment to realize that the position you were in paired with the sounds you made and Bucky's words, it could seem quite provocative despite both of you being completely clothed.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Wilson," you murmured, raising up onto your forearms to look up at him easier.  "Buck's just helping me relax."

"That's not what it sounds like," he scoffed before turning to leave the room.  "Next time y'all decide to 'massage each other,'" his voice emphasizing the air quotations, "do it from Bucky's room and spare the rest of us."

You and Bucky shared a look before a sexy smirk crossed his face.  "He didn't suggest a bad idea, kitten."

You feigned offense as you asked, "Are you seriously suggesting getting freaky with me right now?"

Bucky leaned down, biting the shell of your ear before whispering, "I would much rather hear those sounds coming from you while you're on top of me instead.  Plus, you'll be real relaxed when I'm done with you."  With an offer like that, how could you refuse?  One breathless confirmation from you, and you both took off to do exactly what Sam had suggested.

[steddiejudas]

November 6th, Getting High

It’s a hard day every year. The anniversary effect, Joyce tells him. It’s been six years since the day Will went missing and set off the chain of events that changed Steve’s life forever. He wasn’t even there for that part of it, but getting to know Will, adopting him into his little troup of kids, and watching him fall silent on this day every year sets them all on edge. But this year feels different.

The anxiety is still there, and Steve thinks it always will be, but this time there are no tingles on the back of necks, no chill in the air that alights every sense into fight or fight mode (Steve is almost certain he has no flight or freeze reactions anymore). Plus, now he has Robin, and Eddie, and to the shock and awe of everyone involved, Jonathan and Nancy too. So this year, they get to celebrate.

Steve spends all day in the kitchen making Will’s favorite foods. Mac and cheese with a baked top of breadcrumbs, rotisserie chicken because Will loves the drumsticks, green bean casserole, which Steve isn’t a fan of personally, but it reminds Will of the dish Joyce makes on thanksgiving from cans they get at the foodbank, and he wants to spoil them with a version using fresh ingredients from the farmers market. There’s even a cake cooling on the counter and homemade cream cheese frosting, which Steve has had to swat Eddie’s sneaky fingers out of at least three times now. Eddie sits on the kitchen counter the whole time, keeping Steve company with a fondness in his expression that softens Steve to letting him lick the beaters he used to whip up the frosting. He’s a mess, and Steve loves him.

When evening rolls around, their apartment fills with the whole party. Even Argyle made the trip back to Hawkins to celebrate. He brings a bag of Cali weed with him, stronger shit than they can get out here, and Steve is completely fucked when it hits his bloodstream and looks at Eddie because Argyle’s weed always has a way of putting him in horny bitch mode, and Eddie with smoke streaming from his nostrils, giggling about how it makes him look like a dragon doesn’t help.

When the kids are full of food and piled up in front of the TV to watch Never Ending Story and mock Dustin mercilessly, Steve drags Eddie into their bedroom, unable to keep his hands off of him for another minute.

“Steve. Steve, oh my god.” Eddie pants as their hips roll together in a clumsy rhythm. “If you keep doing that you’re going to lose, baby boy.”

“Don’t care,” Steve pants into Eddie’s skin, intoxicated by the weed and the scent of his cheap cologne. “Just want you. Eddie… god I can’t believe I agreed to this being the word. Let me nut?”

“Fuck, okay.” And Steve can tell Eddie is just as desperate as he is after almost a week without making him cum. Eddie reaches a hand between them, cupping his hand around Steve’s cock to give him more friction to grind against, relishing in the wanton moans it draws out of him. Steve never thought the sounds of children screaming from his living room while he’s trying to get off would be a good thing, but well, he’s not exactly being quiet, and he’s dreading a lull in their shrieks that will inevitably get him caught.

He keeps moving his hips, his hands gripping at every inch of Eddie’s skin, squeezing his hip bones and digging his nails into the exposed skin of his shoulders. They keep the apartment hot just so Steve can see his boyfriend in those slutty tank tops he cuts down to his navel. And yeah, they’ve been playing, but not finishing for a full week is sending Steve teetering towards the edge faster than he expected. When Eddie’s hand flexes around him, he nearly cries, nearly cums on the spot.

But then there’s a knock at the door.

“Steve? Eddie? Are you guys okay in there?”

Will. Shit. Steve comes crashing back down to Earth in an instant. The worry in his voice is clear, and Steve is filled with guilt for worrying the kid today of all days. He reaches down and stills Eddie’s palm, giving it a squeeze in apology before opening the door a crack and leaning out to see the kid… smirking?

“We’re fine. Are you okay?” Steve adjusts himself behind the door and smacks Eddie’s shoulder for laughing silently.

“I’m fine. Eddie told me to check up on you guys when you snuck off. Do you guys… need anything?”

“No,” Steve says, shooting Eddie a glare that would make him drop dead if looks could kill. “No, we don’t need anything. We’ll be out in a minute, okay?”

“Okay.” Will says, slinking away with a look on his face that is far too knowledgeable about their escapades.

Steve closes the door quietly behind him and rounds on Eddie. “You enlisted a CHILD to keep me from coming?”

Eddie shrugs. “Sorry baby, I didn’t know you were going to actually back out. I couldn’t let you lose this early on.”

“You know I hate you, right?”

“Aw, that’s not true. You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“I’m proud of you for telling me what you need, Stevie, and if you really want it we can end this later tonight after everyone leaves.”

There’s no debate, Steve wants it, but competition has pumped through him like ice in his veins since his very first basketball game. And, okay, maybe Eddie had a point about the build up, the anticipation, because so far the play has been like nothing he’s ever experienced before and as much as he’d love to paint Eddie’s chest in thick stripes of warm cum and play with it like a finger painting, he wants to see how this month ends more.

“No! I-I mean, it’s okay. I want to keep going, really.” Steve sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face, and goes into the ensuite to calm himself down. There’s no way he would be able to walk away from Eddie’s evil smirk and he promised the kid they were done.

For now, at least.

@steddievember

[sulky-valkyrie]

Andres/fenris/nathaniel prompt: grey warden sandwich which Nate starts with “Hey, Fenris, did you know that Anders finds tattoos on elves absolutely irresistible?”

Hullo my beloved, and happy Friday welllll past your bedtime 💜 that's a direct continuation of this. for @dadrunkwriting

When Fenris asked him to stay, Nate was hesitant, but that worried defiance on Anders’ face as he approached them made it an easy decision.  Fenris was right: he couldn’t just leave him again.  Not that he really did the leaving seven years ago so much as watch Anders do it.

I’m not the man I was, Nate.  

Maker, what had happened to him after that day in the forest?  How was he so different, yet exactly the same?  You wouldn’t like this one as much anyway.  It was clear Anders believed it too.  Believed whatever he’d been through had made him unloveable.  

“What Andraste’s oversized bloomers are you doing?” Anders demanded as he closed in on them.  “Not telling him about all the dumb shit I did in Vigil’s Keep, are you?”

“Haven’t had the time.”  Now, before I lose my nerve.  Anders had pushed him away before, but it had been with regret, not rejection.  A fear of hurting Fenris.  And now Fenris had invited him to their home and their bed.  Anders’ bed, at least.  Nate stood quickly, dragging Fenris up behind him, and looped an arm around Anders’ waist as he cupped his jaw.  “But I’ll make it later.”

Anders’ eyes bounced from Nate to Fenris with a mixture of shock and confusion, and Nate could feel his heart racing under his skin.  “I don’t - what?”

Fenris’ arm joined his against Anders’ back, and a breath ghosted across Nate’s knuckles as he kissed the side of Anders’ chin.  “If you wish it, he’ll be returning home with us.”

“I -” Anders started shaking, so much that Nate worried he might fall over.  Or pass out.  Cracks of blue appeared, then Justice was there instead, looking at Fenris curiously.  “Why?”

The sudden reappearance of the spirit while Nate’s arms were around him was unsettling, but Fenris barely reacted.  As if this was a normal thing.  Perhaps it was.  “No justice is served in denying him this.”  Fenris stroked the spirit’s face with his thumb.  “He’s lost enough.  And too many times over.”

Justice swayed toward Fenris, eye’s fluttering like his touch was pure bliss, then rested his head on his shoulder for a moment.  “He would like that.”  Then he twisted slightly to fix Nate with a piercing gaze.  “You will not hurt him again.”

What could Nate say to that?  ‘Don’t host any more spirits and it won’t be an issue?’  He swallowed and shook his head.  “I never meant -”

“Nathaniel.”  Justice’s voice was low.  Not quite a threat, but a promise.  “I have safeguarded him from much, and at great cost.  You will swear not to hurt him or you will leave now.”

He couldn’t bear to walk away.  Not with Anders so close.  “I swear.  I won’t be able to stay, but I won’t - it won’t be like last time.”

The light faded, and Nate was holding a mostly-mortal man again.  Anders blinked and squinted, then reached up to touch his face.  “Justice confirmed this isn’t the Fade.”  His voice had that same edge to it that it did when he’d asked the Commander why he hadn’t just handed him over to Rylock all those years ago.  Like he didn’t believe his good fortune, either that he deserved it or that it was happening at all.

“It’s not,” Nate said quietly, resisting the urge to pull him out of Fenris’ arms and into his own.  “I’m here.”

“We both are,” Fenris murmured.  

They didn’t all share a tent that night: Anders slept in Fenris’ arms, if his spooning sleep habits hadn’t changed, and Nate tossed and turned in a bedroll outside.  He was glad for it: Fenris may have suggested the whole thing, but Anders was obviously worried, and Nate didn’t want to sow any more chaos in his life that he already had.  And the tents they had were too small for three grown men, anyway.

Breakfast was a quick casual affair.  Anders made tea, Hawke passed out a few chunks of bread, and Isabela and Fenris put away the tents.  The air had a strange tension to it; nothing bad, but expectant.  Hawke eyed Nate suspiciously, and leaned down to whisper something in Anders’ ear.  He shook his head, and patted their shoulder.

Hawke didn’t look entirely satisfied, but shrugged, kissed his cheek, then grabbed their bag and headed out with Bela.  “Be good, boys!”

Fenris snorted softly as he pulled his pack over his shoulder and helped him up.  “Did you tell them?”

Anders leaned against him with a fond exasperated sigh.  “You know how Bela is - probably was peeking out the tent flap all last night.”

Their easy chatter made Nate’s heart hurt.  Who was he to get in the middle of that?  An ex-lover who’d functionally left him for dead.  I should go.  Now, before I hurt him again.  He’d promised Justice he wouldn’t, but what did that mean?  Certainly, he’d never intentionally do anything to him, but he’d never meant to hurt him before either.    

“Nate?”  Anders' voice was right next to him, and concerned.  Fenris was scattering the remainder of the fire, giving them some illusion of privacy, but Nate had no doubt he was listening.  Anders chewed at his lip.  “You don’t - I mean, if this all is just some kind of fucked up apology, I don’t want it.  There’s - you did the best you could.”

What could he say to that?  “Justice doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Justice is still irritated that Sigrun stole his dagger.”  He smiled shakily.  “How is she?”

Gone with Velanna, looking for her sister.  “I haven’t heard from her in a while.”  He took a deep breath and nodded toward Fenris.  “You love him?”  

He swallowed and looked away.  “We’ve been through . . . a lot together.”  

Too serious a question to get a serious answer.  Nate tried another tactic.  “You like him,” he teased softly, taking the same tone that Sigrun has always used to get him out of his head when he was compulsively reorganizing the infirmary.

It worked.  The looming storm clouds of worry scattered and suddenly Anders, the real Anders, the man he’d loved for years was back, standing next to him and elbowing him playfully.  “Who told?”

“So you’re not staring at him like you’re thinking about licking him like a frozen dessert?”  he asked dryly. 

“Who wouldn’t?”  Anders shrugged and grinned.  “And you’re staring too, so put up or shut up.”  

He had a point.  Several.  Fenris was extremely attractive, and moved with a leonine grace and control that Nate couldn’t help but admire.  And those marks, whatever they were, simply accentuated his beauty and made him almost otherworldly.  

In fact . . .

Nate raised his voice.  “Hey, Fenris, did you know that Anders finds tattoos on elves absolutely irresistible?”

Anders went white then pink as Fenris turned around.  “Does he now?”  His gaze swept up them both, And it wasn’t just Anders who shivered.  “He’s never mentioned it before.”

“D-didn’t want to give Merrill the wrong idea,” Anders stuttered, elbowing him in the gut and starting to babble in the delightfully flustered way Nate had always found so charming.  

“No, these are much better simple decorations.”  He cocked his head at Nate.  “What do you propose?”

“What do you have time for?”  He reached up to press a thumb against Anders’ lips.  

Anders sucked on it greedily as he pawed at Nate’s belt, then whined as Fenris was suddenly behind him, grabbing his wrists and tugging them behind his back.  “I have all the time in the world,” Fenris murmured, “But I’d like to hear your proposal first.  Indoors.  By a fire.  And with him already naked and begging.”  

[deepspacedukat]

Begin Again - Part 4

Alright, things are beginning to heat up! I’ve got an outline now, and I think this’ll be nine chapters if all goes according to plan. Enjoy!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Koss (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: This is smut adjacent, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies attraction, Human/Vulcan attraction, mentions of sexual thoughts, innuendo, mutual pining, they both believe their attraction is one-sided but it’s mutual, they’re just idiots experiencing sexual tension, also made-up Vulcan food.

~*~

Nearly another week passed before I gave in to the urge to go down to the underground spring. After Koss mentioned that Vulcans swim au naturel, I found myself both intrigued and nervous about the possibility of going down there and finding my handsome neighbor unclothed. Such a state would do nothing but stir unnecessarily improper mental images.

Eventually, though, my discomfort and frustration with the heat forced me to swallow my reservations. Donning a red one-piece swimsuit, the only one I currently owned, I wrapped a thin robe around my shoulders to wander down into the caverns. Surely it was late enough at night that Koss would be asleep? The thought of enduring the heat for another moment was repugnant, though, so I’d just have to risk it.

As I rounded the corner to the cavern’s opening, I almost didn’t see him at first. Koss was seated amidst a small cluster of lit candles with his legs crossed. He wore only a thin pair of pants, and despite how much I knew I shouldn’t, I paused to silently admire his figure.

His broad shoulders really were just that broad, and the rest of his torso was equally as muscular and solid. I wondered vaguely if his job as an architect intersected with actual construction work, because his skin was sunkissed enough for it to be a possibility. His posture was perfect, and the only expression on his face was one of complete serenity and calm.

Had I been skilled in the medium, I would’ve been inclined to carve his likeness in marble.

“The benefit of the spring is much more substantial when you are submerged in it, Ensign.” Steady but gentle, his voice called out to me. My breath caught in my throat when I suddenly found his gaze locked with mine. There was some question in his eyes - not accusing but curious - about whether I would turn and flee since I’d been discovered or if I would summon my courage and enter despite his presence.

Who was I to disappoint him? Lifting my chin very slightly to at least give the semblance of confidence, I made my way over to the small cabinet at the side and untied my robe. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I slipped the cloth from my arms and laid it across the top of the cabinet.

“Is that a bathing suit?” Glancing over at his question, I noted a faint green blush on his cheeks as if he hadn’t truly intended to ask it aloud - perhaps he hadn’t even meant to reveal that he’d been watching. Now that it was out in the open, however, he couldn’t take it back any more than I could take back the small smile that played over my lips.

“Yes, it is,” I murmured as I struck a pose in jest. Seemingly giving up on his meditation, Koss stood and made his way to me. Had he always been that tall? “It must look odd to you.”

“No, not odd. Different, of course, but...the garment suits you,” Koss stated as his eyes floated back up to my face after his inspection. “Would you join me for a swim?”

“But what about your meditation?”

“What I completed prior to your arrival will be sufficient for tonight,” he said offering me his arm. Koss’s voice was weighted, but surely that was just my imagination.

How odd for a Vulcan to offer physical touch so openly. They weren’t very tactile under normal circumstances, not that I had been overly successful in coaxing Soval into telling me the reason for their aversion.

Grasping his forearm lightly, I walked with him to the water’s edge. I assumed he would pause to remove the last of his clothing before we got in, but he stepped into the water without hesitation.

When he was immersed to his waist, he turned and offered me his hands. Twice in one day? Very strange for a Vulcan. Laying my palms in his upturned ones, I walked slowly forward, descending the three carved steps into the water until I was practically standing in his arms. The heat radiating off his chest made my cheeks burn as I looked up into his eyes.

Koss swallowed before taking a slow step back in the water and releasing my hands. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he looked as flustered as I felt.

“I thought Vulcans didn’t wear clothes to go swimming?” My voice was shakier than I’d hoped it would be when I finally spoke, but he didn’t seem to notice. He glanced down at his doused pants.

“Normally I wouldn’t, but I wasn’t certain that you would be comfortable with that,” he explained, and I couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

“Koss, that’s really thoughtful of you, and I appreciate you taking my feelings into account, but I don’t want you to sacrifice your comfort just to satisfy what you believe mine to be,” I said as I stepped a little deeper into the pool and the water level finally rose above my chest. The crisp, cool water felt heavenly swirling around my skin. “I’m quite capable of adapting to changes.”

“I do not doubt that.” The wry humor in his tone made me smile. “You had adapted to the Forge rather well prior to your lirpa injuries, and you seem to be taking to your change in residence with ease.”

Oh. He’d meant it logically. Of course. How had I thought I’d heard humor? My wishful thinking was going to end up making an idiot out of me.

Shaking off my momentary lapse, I changed the subject to Vulcan literature - a topic which allowed us to talk and swim for several hours that night. When my new friend tossed me a towel and we both returned to our respective homes for the night, the sight of Koss stepping out of the spring with water droplets clinging to his bare torso was seared into my memory. For the next several days, that damnable image popped into my head at the most inopportune times, plaguing me with inappropriate thoughts and distractions.

Even Soval noticed my preoccupation. He was kind enough not to ask what was on my mind more than once - my reluctance proved to be an effective deterrent for once - and he even saw fit to teach me a Vulcan technique that helped me clear my mind.

Just when I thought I’d forced my imagination back into safe territory regarding Koss, that’s when it all fell apart. I ventured back down to the spring under the foolish, arrogant assumption that I had my mind firmly under control. The siren call of the cold water promised a nice, calm, relaxing night and relief from the unrelenting heat of Vulcan’s suns.

Too bad Koss had other plans. When I descended into the cavern once more, my jaw dropped. My Vulcan neighbor was meditating again, but this time he was entirely without clothing. Biting my lower lip, I tried to behave as I normally would, hoping he hadn’t noticed how long I’d been lingering in the doorway. Without saying a word, I removed my robe, laid it over the cabinet as I had before, and used all my focus to walk toward the water without sneaking a peek at Koss’s...endowment.

As I neared the edge, however, a quiet call of my name forced me to turn toward him. I looked down where he’d been sitting, but my eyes ended up where they shouldn’t, and–

Oh.

Koss had stood up, and he was very well-equipped. My eyes flicked quickly back up to his, and I hoped he couldn’t tell how hard I was biting the inside of my cheek.

“Shall I lay out a towel for you?” How could he sound so casual when he’d just caught me checking him out?

“I-I...Yes, please. Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you.” I mentally cringed at how breathy I sounded. Blessedly, he didn’t comment on how brightly my cheeks were burning. On shaky legs, I made my way down the steps and dove under the water. I hoped that the low temperature would help cool me down in more ways than one.

Alas, it was a futile effort.

Coming up for air near the spring’s side, I flicked my wet hair out of my eyes and grasped the smooth stone of the outer rim as I drew a deep breath. There Koss stood with his back to me, putting two towels aside for us. He had a few scars here and there which only added to my curiosity about him. I knew I should look away, but he was so handsome. Surely it was logical to admire beauty when one found it in another...wasn’t it?

Oh, who was I kidding? Anyone would have scowled at my absurd justification for such an emotional reaction to seeing a bit of skin, especially a Vulcan like him. After all, this wasn’t anything sexual to Koss. What I saw as swimming nude was simply swimming to him. It was normal for his people, and I shouldn’t have allowed my hormones to control my thoughts for as long as I did. Taking a deep breath, I tried to behave more calmly as my companion joined me.

“How was your day?” I didn’t dare look over at him until I was certain the water was high enough to cover his modesty. Koss sounded so matter-of-fact.

“It went well. Soval and I have been working with an Andorian diplomat about establishing a trade agreement. My experience with Commander Shran and his crewmates from the Kumari have given me a baseline for establishing the Ambassador’s mood, so our discussions have been mostly cordial.” I didn’t want to ramble too much, so I gave Koss a smile and reciprocated his interest. “What about you? Design any new architectural masterpieces?”

“Not yet, but I was commissioned to design a new wing for the Earth Embassy today. I was told that it should be suitable for Andorian residents. Presumably, the Andorian Ambassador whom you mentioned sees the potential for a positive outcome if he wishes to remain. Logically, it stands to reason that he has recommended his government assign a more permanent delegation,” Koss explained as he swam to my side. “You have obviously made quite an impression.”

His arm brushed against mine just beneath the surface of the water, and something electric passed between us. Had Koss felt that too, or was I just going insane?

“That’s kind of you to say, but I’m sure it was Ambassador Soval who swayed him. I was just there to smooth out a few rough edges, that’s all.”

“Then why would the Andorians request a residence for their diplomats inside the Earth Embassy? If the Ambassador truly thought nothing of your own involvement, it would be more logical to request a separate space.” Koss’s logic was sound. I hadn’t considered it that way.

I thanked him quietly, and we moved onto different topics. Over the two months that followed, our evening swims became an almost nightly ritual. Our conversations flowed more smoothly as we grew more comfortable around each other. Pretty soon, Koss was able to read me like a book, and I’d gotten better at doing the same for him.

Our banter became more casual and frequently entertained us well past our respective bedtimes. Well, at least past my own bedtime. Vulcans didn’t need as much sleep as Humans, so usually when I left for the night, Koss settled in to meditate before heading to his bed. He’d pretty much given up on attempting the practice beforehand.

Tonight, I hadn’t intended to come back down after I’d bid Koss a good night, but I’d gotten up to my living area to find it storming. I’d been through several storms on Vulcan before, but none had been quite as loud as this. Making sure the rooftop garden was covered, I got into a pair of pajamas, grabbed a blanket, and wandered back down to the spring.

It was so blessedly quiet down there. The reverberations of the much-louder-than-Earth’s thunderclaps were entirely silenced in the caverns, so it was the logical place for me to go.

Koss looked up from his meditation at the sound of my feet against the stone.

“Ensign? You should be resting. Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just storming pretty loudly, and I figured I’d have a calmer night down here,” I explained, and Koss tilted his head curiously. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all, but...does Earth not have storms?” If he hadn’t asked it with such earnest innocence, I’d have guessed that Koss was messing with me.

“We do, but they tend to be quieter. Normally, I can sleep through thunderstorms just fine, but the ones here on Vulcan are somewhat more vocal,” I said walking over to the large pile of cushions. As I’d discovered a few weeks prior, they were all massed atop a large, silk-sheet-covered mattress to form an absolutely luxuriant sleeping area. I moved a few of the pillows out of the way and propped myself up with one. Just as I draped my blanket over my legs, Koss extinguished his candles and came to join me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It is of no consequence. Tonight, I lacked the necessary concentration, so I would not have accomplished much anyway. I will repeat the attempt in the morning,” he stated simply as he moved a few cushions as well and reclined beside me. He’d donned only his pants since I’d attempted to go to bed earlier. His robe still lay over the cabinet where he’d placed it. “As it stands, I would much rather take this opportunity to speak further with you.”

“You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

“Only when I am conversing with you, it seems,” he murmured, and I couldn’t stop the little huff of laughter that bubbled out of me. Over the duration of our friendship, I’d worked out that Koss enjoyed seeing me flustered. Tonight was obviously no exception.

We talked for a while longer before I started drifting off. I mumbled an apology, but Koss just convinced me to lie down and tugged my blanket a little farther up my body. He lounged on his side next to me and gave me an almost-smile that made my fuzzy little brain melt even further as I struggled to keep my eyelids open. “Sleep. I’ll make sure you wake up in time to get ready for your shift at the Embassy.”

How could I argue with that? Nodding my head silently, I snuggled into the veritable pile of pillows and let myself glide slowly into unconsciousness. Koss said something in Vuhlkansu, but it eluded the feeble grasp of my sleep-addled mind. It could wait. So could the gentle fingertips that brushed over the apple of my cheek as dreamland took me.

--

Low, gentle words wafted over my ears, but all I could do was let out a sleepy little sound.

“I apologize, ashalik, but it is morning. You need to wake up.” I knew that voice. It was such a nice one...soft, warm...safe...

“Koss?” Even half-asleep I was aware enough to recognize that I sounded at least as disheveled as I probably looked. Blinking slowly, I looked up to see Koss kneeling beside me, not one iota more dressed than he had been before we’d slept with the exception of mussed hair.

“Good morning. I apologize for keeping you up so late,” he said as he looked into my eyes almost sheepishly.

“Oh hush. I always enjoy spending time with you. I’m surprised we haven’t stayed up that late before now,” I said as I forced myself to sit up. As soon as I did, he turned and grabbed a tray. “You made breakfast?”

A slight blush colored his cheeks as he set the tray between us and passed me one of the bowls.

“I did. It was logical to assume that you would be hungry when you awoke,” he stated as he handed me a spoon. “Besides, you made a meal for me. I thought it fitting that I should return the favor. The gespar are freshly picked, so they should still taste their best.”

I looked up at him slightly alarmed when I processed what he’d said.

“Did you go out in the storm to pick them?” He held up a hand calmly and shook his head.

“The storm’s cycle came to an end before I went to make the morning meal. I assure you, I did not risk my safety, though I do appreciate your concern,” he explained, and I turned my gaze down to my food so I wouldn’t embarrass myself further. Koss had made what looked like something similar to oatmeal only it was blue with sliced fruit - gespar, I should say - laid in a semi-circle over the top.

“This looks delicious, Koss. Thank you.” When I moved into this home, I never thought I’d have breakfast with a shirtless Vulcan in an underground cave. Yet there I was. By the time we went our separate ways to begin the day, I was more content than I had been since my transfer.

~*~*~

Vulcan words:

ashalik = darling

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about: Bug’s self esteem and Bucky’s thoughts on her body

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Bug (+Brother’s best friend Bucky, plus sized fem reader)  CW: Struggles with physical self esteem (younger Bug), talks about comparing bodies and societal beauty standards, past fat phobia and bullying, language, references to sex, oral sex and fooling around, switches from 3rd person to 2nd person POV at the sex part. 

By the time we meet Bug as an adult we aren’t going to see a lot of physical self-esteem issues, in fact she carries herself with a lot of confidence. She wears whatever the fuck she wants, styles her hair and makeup however she wants, and carries the mindset of “I don’t owe it to anyone to be pretty or palatable.” This is because in her 20s she’s really started to unpack how much bullshit comes with a. existing as a woman in society and b. existing as a plus size woman in society. So if she doesn’t want to shave her legs she’s not going to, but you bet your ass she’ll still be in shorts if it’s hot, humans have body hair get the fuck over it. 

I’d say this turning point for her really came around the time that Bucky got arrested for kicking the shit out of her ex (as referenced here). It had been devastating at the time, and even though Bucky swore up and down he’d happily do it again consequences be damned, she realized someone she cared about who clearly cared way more about her than said shit head ex was being inconvenienced for something at the end of the day didn’t really matter all that much. Like who was her ex to even say that? And why would she care about some loser’s opinion? 

That was not the case when they were growing up, however. If we were to purely just focus on younger Bug we’d see a lot more insecurity born from her experiences with bullies and the fact that the token actresses chosen to play the “fat friend” in movies and TV were still significantly smaller than her. It also didn’t help that Bucky’s on again off again girlfriend throughout high school was tiny so she’d look at her as the gold standard for what Bucky must want and spend tearful nights comparing her thigh size to her, her waist size, etc. 

That, that attention to Bucky’s “type,” comes into play later on because as discussed , Bucky ends up sleeping around a lot. Which ends up revealing that Bug is in fact not the exception- we’re not going to see that trope of “would you date a plus size girl?” “Of course, it’s what’s inside that counts.” Bucky isn’t looking past Bug’s appearance to date her.  Because yes of course what’s inside matters but Bucky wasn’t sleeping around based on personality, and his choice of partners revealed that he has an appreciation for all different bodies. So does he find Bug beautiful on the inside? Absolutely. Does he also just find her incredibly fucking hot? Full send. And if he suddenly finds himself sleeping with more people that bare a resemblance to her leading up to him realizing his feelings surely that’s just a coincidence...

Speaking of sex; Bucky will dick you down six ways to Sunday and talk about how incredibly sexy your body is the entire time, how receptive it is, how welcoming. Bucky already found you desirable but that desire only increases in intensity the more he spends getting to know you and your body. He wants your plush thighs wrapped around his head, wants the full weight of you on him as you sit on his dick, wants to lick every single stretch mark, bite and mark the dimpled skin of your ass, press wet open mouthed kisses to the ample swell of your stomach, he wants to worship you. 

TLDR:

Bug is the type to say “If I’m too heavy to lift you better work out.”

and Bucky is the type to be in the gym because he needs to drag you down the bed, throw you across the room, fuck you up against the wall...

[sparkles-and-trash]

That Adam and Eric plot from sex education where they have a miscommunication and both except to be the bottom is such a dabihawks thing my god I have to write it someday

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

I want to smear strawberries all over his body and get them off with my mouth and teeth. Then get him off with whatever part of me he chooses.

[shadyelizabeth]

8.11. POPSICLE (ICE LOLLY)

This past week had been brutal. Harry was assigned a hellish case early Sunday morning, reports of a rogue wizard kidnapping children, magical and Muggle alike. Action had to be quickly taken before any casualties were reported. He arrived at the Ministry within a half hour of getting the call, sleep still crusting his eyelids. A portkey was ready to take him and his partner, Rickards, to the far corners of northern Leeds. 

Thankfully, he and Rickards were able to get a solid handle on the case within twenty-four hours of arriving. Their perpetrator had either gotten sloppy or over-confident in their spellcasting and had left their magical calling card. By the end of the week, they’d tracked him down, rescued the children, and safely reunited each and everyone with their families.

When he’d returned to London late Friday evening, the first thing he’d done was ring his boyfriend to see if he wanted to meet him for dessert. He liked to indulge himself in a sweet treat after a job well done and some sweet loving any time he spent more than a couple of days away from Draco.

They’d agreed to meet at Popbar near King’s Cross at 8PM.

Harry had gotten caught up at the Ministry finishing some last-minute paperwork before heading home to take a shower, so he was running a few minutes late. Draco’s sweet tooth was more demanding than his own, so Harry expected he’d order without him. What he hadn’t expected stopped him dead in his tracks as he rounded the corner; his breath caught in his chest. 

Draco sat out front at one of the restaurant’s plastic tables, casually leaning back in one of the chairs. The fluorescent lights illuminated half of his body while the other half was cast in shadow from the fading sunlight. His hair was thrown up in a messy bun; a few loose strands were falling around his face. The top two buttons of his cornflower blue jersey were undone, and he was completely engrossed with something on his mobile. Absentmindedly, his tongue darted out and slowly licked the ice lolly in his other hand from base to tip. Harry felt himself twitch in his boxers.

“Holy shit.”

Kicking out his leg to adjust himself, he continued forward. His eyes never left his boyfriend’s mouth. 

When he got to the table, he pulled out the chair closest to Draco and quickly sat. Draco’s eyes flicked up at him. His rouged red lips came off the lolly with an audible smack.

“Hello, love.” His tongue swirled around the dessert’s tip, lapping up some of the melting droplets.

Instead of offering his own greeting, Harry moved his chair as close as he could to Draco’s, slotting their legs together. He leaned in and slid a hand up the back of his neck, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape, and cradled his head. Growling low into his boyfriend’s ear, he said, “Did you know I was watching?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he said, sticking the entirety of the lolly in his mouth and slowly pulling it out with hollowed cheeks. 

“Draco.” He gritted out between his teeth. His fingers tightened in his hair, gently tugging his head backward. The tightness in his shorts was beginning to become uncomfortable. 

Harry’s eyes followed Draco’s tongue as he licked another slow stripe from the bottom to the top before sticking more than half of the ice lolly in his mouth, pulling it out with a loud slurp, triggering something feral in Harry.

“Yes?” His long lashes fluttered, silver eyes bright with mischief. 

“That was obscene. I–I don’t think I can get up from my seat right now.”

“Hmm.” Draco leaned forward. “Seems like a personal problem.” His breath was a muddling mix of hot and cold. He scraped his teeth along the sensitive skin below Harry’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. He asked, “Whatever shall you do?”

Harry didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking, and given the situation, that just wouldn’t do.

With his free hand, he took the lolly from Draco and dropped it on the pavement. “Oops,” he said, not looking regretful at all.

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry.” Taking Draco’s hand, he not so gently pulled him from his seat, eyes scanning the alley behind the shop for movement. “I know just how to make it up to you.”

The alley was sparsely illuminated by a dingy flickering light above the shop’s back door and smelled of days-old garbage. Besides the dumpster, there was no coverage. Anyone who followed them or opened the back door would see everything that was happening but Harry didn’t care. For the moment, it would have to work.

One hand pushed and pinned Draco’s hips against the brick wall. The other tilted his neck to the side, giving his mouth easier access to the long column of creamy skin. Harry licked a line up his neck, from his collarbone to his jaw, and then sank his teeth in, lips sucking a bruise into his skin.

“Ah!”

“I can’t believe–” but he didn’t finish. The friction of his shifting hips against Draco’s thigh tore the rest of the words from his mouth.

Draco’s hands went to Harry’s waist, pulling him in by the belt loops. His fingers grappled for Harry’s arse, squeezing as he lined their cocks up and ground them together. Draco moaned. Harry sank his teeth in deeper.

Their mouths met, and Harry’s only thoughts were of the pressure of his lover’s mouth, the lingering sweetness on his lips, and the satisfying sweep of Draco’s tongue as it swept inside, sending surges of desire straight to his cock.

He wanted more.

Wrenching his mouth away, he growled, “Knees.” 

Draco’s hands started making quick work of his shorts, but he stayed upright.

“And to think”–his eyes sparkled in the low light, bright with lust and challenge–“I was just trying to enjoy a delicious ice lolly, and then you”–his hand ducked into Harry’s boxers and squeezed–“had to go and make a naughty spectacle of things.”

Harry’s mind went blank, singular focus on the hand shuttling up and down his aching prick. Draco’s thumb pressed into his slit–“Fuck!” slipping from his lips without his express permission–gathering the moisture leaking from the tip. But it still wasn’t enough.

Closing his fingers around Draco’s bun, Harry ground out, “I said ‘Knees’.”

The crook of Draco’s mouth was cruel. His grip loosened, fingers tickling a featherlight trail up and down his shaft. Harry groaned. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands right now.”

Conceding, Harry’s head dropped forward onto his shoulder, yearning. “Dracooo. Pleeease.”

“That’s more like it.”

Draco dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead. The tenderness was incongruent with the way he spun them around, pressed Harry’s back up against the wall, and yanked his shorts down as he slid to his knees. 

Looking up through long lashes, hand stroking with purpose now–“Godric, yesss!”–he said, “If we had longer, I’d make you properly beg.”

“All because I ruined your dessert?” Harry was surprised he was able to make let alone voice coherent thoughts.

“Yes.” He pressed his tongue flat against his slit and Harry saw stars. “Though, I also enjoy it when you’re desperate for me.” He nipped at the soft skin on the inside of his thigh and then swallowed his cock whole. 

The sound Harry made was inhuman. His eyes rolled closed and his hands scrambled for something to hold onto, nails digging into the brick behind him.

Draco’s mouth was hot and wet and working a mad kind of magic. All the teasing had gotten Harry so close to the edge; his balls tingled with the need for release. It would take nearly nothing to push him over, but he needed something to get him there.

When he opened his eyes, he came undone. The sight of Draco’s hollowed cheeks, softly painted pink in the low light, mixed with the platinum strands that had fallen loose from his bun, his lust-filled eyes, and the feel of him swallowing his dick was all too much. Wrecked, he came, a husky moan flying free.

Draco took his whole load, lapping up every last drop. His mouth released Harry with a wet pop, lips red and swollen and glistening, looking every bit like he just gave dirty head in a dark alley. He landed one more lick for prosperity.

Pushing his hair back off his face, between heavy breaths, Harry said, “Remind me to interrupt dessert more often.”

Draco planted a kiss at the juncture of his hips before he stood, a satisfied smile on his face. His shorts were tented, and Harry was preparing to happily return the favor. He just need a few more moments to catch his breath, but Draco instead said, “Now that that’s taken care of, you”–he poked him in the chest–“owe me another ice lolly.”

Laughing, Harry started to pull up his trousers and said, “After that, I’ll buy you all the ice lollies you want.”

AUGUST MASTERPOST