#so maybe he has a little faith in that?

[hyperfixatinator]

ROTTMNT Theory: Donatello's Hidden Role

After rewatching ROTTMNT (shorts and movie included), I realized something about Donnie's character that I've hardly seen anyone mention, and I'm going to talk about it in depth here.

I'll assume you've already watched the series and dive right in, but spoiler warning under the cut in case you care about that.

Let me start with something seemingly off topic. Raph is the oldest of the four brothers, which landed him the responsibility of keeping his younger siblings safe when their father was unavailable. (Not trying to bash Splinter. He's gradually grown to be a better parent later on, but you can't deny he was fairly neglectful in the beginning of the series)

The constant pressure Raph went through was brought up in the episode "Anatawa Hitorijanai", and then the movie showed he still struggles with it now.

He's constantly shouldering the burden of being their family's sole protector, but is this the truth? What if I told you there are actually two protectors in the family? And that the other one was Donnie all along?

When you look closely, Donnie is surprisingly protective of his loved ones. I did a tally of how often each brother exhibits what could be protective behavior, and Donnie was in second place (29) after Raph (35). Some of these choices are debatable, but here's a bunch of examples as pictures.

Would you believe me if I told you I still have a couple smaller examples I had to leave out due to the picture limit? And that's not even including the few moments where Donnie and Raph ever-so-subtly parallel each other.

All things considered, Donnie and Raph aren't so different. Raph is the primary protector who faces the threats head-on with his physical strength, while Donnie is the secondary protector who tends to use more distant methods with his tech and wit. However, when push comes to shove, Donnie will also step up to take direct action when he deems it necessary.

They may be the brains and the brawn, but they both use their respective skills to defend and support their family.

[sebnameyourcar]

inchresting 🧐 opinions?

[sesamenom]

Ar-Pharazon from the Reverse Gondolin AU and as Witch-King of Numenor - thanks to @who-needs-words for helping develop this idea!

[vvitchering]

I’m replaying act 1 (for the fifth time) and when Gale is explaining his condition to you he mentions he’s “never told another living soul” about it, except for Tara. You’re telling me this man shut himself up in his tower for an entire year and didn’t tell anyone why and no one ever bothered to find out? He has so few people who care about him in his life that he fell into a depression and disappeared for a year and NO ONE thought to go and check on him and find out what was wrong? He’s had no one but Tara providing help and support until he meets Tav???????

[lollytea]

How do I say, without coming across as a jaded miserable little bitch who likes raining on everybody's parade, that the PJO Disney plus adaption is nostalgia bait, in the same way that their live action remakes are

[happyk44]

jasico prompts!!!!! i have several you can choose ur favorite:

stupid newlyweds who are on honeymoon and therefore their braincells are dead, not noticing weird things happening around them bc 1) they're used to weird shit 2) they just got married and are too into each other to notice the terrorist attacks, alligators, and mafia shootouts

classic coffeeshop au except this coffeeshop is definitely a front for money laundering but the receptionist is So Cute so you can't blame jason for going there everyday

jason has wall of nico photos that are definitely not creepy and he insists that its just his cork board where he puts photos of friends on except its mostly nico.

god!jason kidnaps nico to piss hades off but oops now he's in love and he keeps making excuses as to why he cant release nico: weather's too hot, you owe me money, i have a cold, etc etc

It wasn't a shrine. No matter what Leo said, it wasn't a shrine. Shrines were completely different - Jason knew that. He had a couple actual shrines and this, this was just a photo album. It wasn't even technically dedicated to Nico. It just sort of... ended up there.

Jason couldn't really pinpoint when or how Nico's photos became the prime material of edge page. The album had been a simple idea. Something to look at when he was feeling lonely and remember that he had friends. Initially it was just a small photo book he took with him on his travels but ever since Leo made him that portable printer, he had expanded it to a couple collections.

He hadn't been hiding it either. The albums were innocuous from first glance, protected. Everyone knew he had them, he talked about them all the time. Every time he whipped out his disposable camera, and then later his shock-proof phone, he'd say a quick, "For the album." And they'd smile and pose. There were a lot of candid photos too.

Travelling was just easier for Nico. So he was around more. Checked in more. Of course, Jason was going to have a lot of photos of him.

But as he flipped through his albums, he was beginning to speculate that maybe Leo was onto something. It still wasn't a shrine but...

Well, Nico was pretty. The light caught his face in wonderful angles. There were times he'd be laughing and Jason would think, I have to remember this.

The thing about losing all your memories? You wanted to make sure you had something, just in case it happened again. He wanted physical proof. Leo was here. Piper baked cookies. Hazel had a birthday.

Nico laughed. Nico smiled. Nico disappeared into the corner shadows of the wall. Nico held a puppy. Nico walked around with a half-grown chicken on his head for two hours.

Jason closed the album shut and set it aside. Nerves tousled up inside him. This was... perhaps a problem he had not anticipated. He steeled his breathe inside himself.

It wasn't a shrine. Shrines were for worshipping. For holiness. And his pitures of his friends were important and beloved, but they weren't worshipped. Or holy to him. They were just memories. They were just moments. They were just...

He closed his eyes and exhaled softly.

Sprawled out on the bed, Leo snored. Jason honed in on the sound as he creaked open the album closest to him and reviewed the photos. Nico's hair caught in the moonlight, his head tilted back up to the stars, eyes closed, face blissful. Half a second later when he caught Jason taking a picturing and started laughing. Another half second and the smear of his hand, his dark eyes peeking out just above.

Jason traced the picture.

I knew you loved him, Leo had laughed hours ago as he'd flipped through pages, but I didn't realize it was obsessive horror movie shrine type love.

Of course, Jason loved him. He loved all his friends. Nico was important to him. And these photos weren't - they were just a memories. Just moments.

Jason flipped through the pages of the album. The brushes of air caught against his skin. Thoughts of sinking into shadowy tendrils, the rush of nothingness, fluttered to the front of his mind. Nico's hands cold against his. His quiet, Are you okay? as Jason readjusted to solid ground.

In the album, Nico reflected back at him from every corner. Dark eyes glinting with secret smiles. The curve of his jaw. The spread of his hands. Other people sat in the pages too. But Nico outnumbered them all. He was front and center. Just looking at him filled Jason with a thick warmth he hadn't felt in a very long time.

He paused. An understanding dawned on him.

Of course, I love him, he's my friend, he'd huffed back at Leo earlier. And it's not a shrine.

Leo had grinned wickedly. His eyes were alight with a knowing that Jason detested. He hated the way Leo always seemed to know him better than he knew himself. Not in a factual logical way - but emotionally. Jason could introspect on himself for decades and never come out with the emotional understanding Leo could sniff out just by looking at him.

It's totally a shrine, dude. He'd laughed a little here, hipchecked Jason. And you're not thinking of the same love I'm thinking of.

He didn't elaborate then and Jason didn't ask. But he got it now.

Maybe it was a shrine then. Sort of. Looking at Nico - candid and posed - filled him with a quiet delight, a sense of clarity. And there was devotion there. It sat quiet in his bones, waiting for the moment Nico would appear from the shadows like an unholy angel. Then it would rattle up cut through Jason's core like a hot knife. Like an iron brand.

He'd been branded in the name of a god before. Although then, he had been an unknowing participant, sat down before a group of adults and burned until his tongue bled. His shrine was devoted to a statue. His prayers heard without much response.

This time was different. His shrine was smiles and humanity, warmth. His calls went answered every time. The brand on his soul had been placed there willingly. He'd chased it down with heavy teeth and was rewarded with blood and family.

Jason pushed Leo's legs out of the way and crawled into place next to him.

The last couple of years had been spent wandering around from place to place, restoring temples, building shrines, remembering the forgotten, taking care of the old. In his travels, he'd hoped for a deity he could take pride in like he used to. When he'd ask them what they wanted from a follower, they'd smile knowingly with crooked teeth and sharp eyes and shaky hands.

They knew the truth he was too blind to see.

He'd already found his god.

Now he just needed to prove his devotion.

[sugurugetowo]

I hold every moment gojo lets down infinity very dearly even if they’re silly

[marley-manson]

I think writing fic is mostly making stuff up, even the most canon compliant fic is technically made up and therefore not canon in the traditional sense. And with that logic all fic is made up, and I release you to go wild in your fanfic writing dreams.

Yeah like I definitely agree, it's all just a case of degrees of separation from canon - unless you're writing for the show you're not writing truly canon fic, and even some of the show writers kinda fail at canon compliance lmao.

But tbf different people have different limits for how far they'll go and in what circumstances, and we all have our different preferences in terms of canon compliance (and our own different interpretations of canon to comply to, for that matter. Like straight Hawkeye is technically more canon compliant in terms of creator intent lol but you won't catch me reading anything where Hawkeye is straight.)

So yeah, everyone should definitely write whatever fic they want regardless of canon! But I do have my own personal limits in terms of what lines I want to cross, what's more flexible vs what I can't change without losing interest, even if it's in service to an otherwise interesting scenario.

Like to put my preferences another way, I would be more inclined to write magical AU dubcon featuring a love potion or smthn as a way to facilitate trainwreck Hawk/BJ/Peg, than I would, say, write Hawkeye agreeing to that triad because he's naive enough to think it's actually a good idea, or he loves BJ so much that he'll accept an unbalanced relationship, or he doesn't think he deserves better, etc. That's not My Hawkeye.

(Actually tbf the one non-AU way I think it could work is leaning into Hawkeye quitting his career post-canon in passive giving-up-on-everything depression, maybe his dad dying to make it even worse, and BJ innocently taking advantage, believing he's taking care of him and helping Hawkeye recover when really he's just emotionally manipulating him into becoming his second wife and giving up on his career forever.)

(Or maybe if Hawkeye lost his license...? Alcoholism, or being outed could do it easily. I feel like that could destroy him enough that he'd just cling to anything anyone offered. At least for a while.)

[zemnarihah]

man

[miru-mu]

rolling around on the floor...

everyone got pissed off and yelled at each other last session, then avoided each other for a good chunk of this one. a talk went poorly and then another one was SAD...but I think went well... and then Keith found out the aliens he needs to kill are at a bachelorette party they need to go to?? and Alun tried to steal/borrow his truck without saying anything??? so obviously next week it's time to shop for gifts and outfits and not talk about how utterly down anyone is, obviously!! going to the sickest party on this plane of existence will fix everything

[tacit-semantics]

Forgot how. Mad Jake’s pq route makes me

[bethanydelleman]

I'm really tired of the "woman sad about her arranged marriage" trope, especially if that woman is royalty.

I am sure that many women across time were sad about their arranged marriages, but I'm sure a lot of others were excited, ambivalent, or resigned. Again, especially if you were royalty! I am sure if you were born a princess, you were trained from birth that your whole purpose in life was to marry someone important to solidify the power of the person on the throne. And honestly, it's an important job, if it wasn't, they wouldn't have tried so hard to do it.

That woman isn't just marrying another king or prince, she's going to be an ambassador of her country. She's supposed to be there promoting good relations. She isn't just a woman being sold off, she has a job! Also, if she is marrying the reigning monarch (or the heir), she may well end up running the country if the king is off at war or he dies when the heir is really young. That happened a lot throughout history! (or maybe she marries the third son and helps him find his way to the throne. Good for her)

It just feels like a modern sentiment being projected back. In Romeo and Juliet, when Juliet's mother first brings up marrying her to Paris, Juliet's basically cool with it and says she'll try to like him. She would have known this was going to happen because that is what rich women do, they marry into another family so their two families can be buddies. What else would she even be expecting?

It wouldn't bother me so much except that it's all we see! Give me a story about a woman who is like, "Cool, I shall give it my all!" Or she's like rolling up her sleeves and planning how she's going to get the court on her side and rule France, power behind the throne style (these women are mostly portrayed as villains, but who is to say the king would do a better job?). And also, have a little faith in women's fathers? You think men in the past didn't occasionally consider the happiness of their daughters? Not even a little bit?

[dante-mightdie]

Viking Price eating out his wife and pampering her after she got better from a very ugly winter cold that could have been deadly🥺🥺

c/w: mentions of sickness, vomiting, death, smut, cunnilingus, public sex bc you know I love that <3

price is very into fulfilling his role in your marriage. whether he likes you or not, he has an example to se to his clan. you both do. it is both yours and johns role to provide a stable example of a healthy marriage

this means sticking to the vows you took on your wedding day. in sickness and in health, he had taken you in your health for months so when you came down with a horrid illness, it was time for him to double down

he took a huge step back from leading the clan, putting his faith in his second-in-command, simon. he spent his time tending to you, never leaving your side. he carried you when you were too weak to carry yourself, like a strong husband should

he bathed you when you had bad days, which was more often than not. climbing into the tub, cradling your aching body to his chest. he lets your body go limp against his as he cleans the sweat off that had clung to your skin during your hot flashes

his fingers would gently rake through your hair, bunching up the strands away from your face as you empty your guts out into a bucket. spewing up the food that john had slowly fed you earlier

there was a time where he prepared for the worst, accepting that he may have to bury his wife sooner than he thought. however, you had miraculously pulled through. price had sent gaz and soap on an expedition to a faraway village to gather some new healing herbs that john had heard about through the grapevine

you were far too weak to make the journey yourself and john had no intentions of leaving your side. the clan praying for your recovery every night before they lay their heads down to sleep

naturally, the news of your sudden recovery had resulted in a huge celebration. a huge feast being held with wine and music and dancing. it was after hours, and all the children of the clan were at home in bed as the adults continued celebrating

john was in his usual seat, at the head of the table. you planted on his thigh, one arm keeping you steadying against his burly chest. soft giggles leaving your mouth as your husband licks and bites at your neck

your hands are planted right on his pecs, loosely squeezing at the flesh there as your husbands hands travel up your skirt. his lips move down to your exposed clevage, dragging his tongue across your warm skin

you reach behind you to grab the goblet of wine you had been drinking from all evening. a blissful feeling bubbling in your gut from the excitement of getting off with your husband in front of all these people

it’s not like you and john are the only ones. just another couple getting busy in the quiet corners of the hall. perhaps because it’s different this time. this is intimate. affectionate. maybe even loving

you take a long drink of the wine before gripping johns jaw tightly and pull him away from your chest, tilting the bottle towards his mouth. with a soft growl, he takes a few big sips before throwing the bottle to the ground and causing it to shatter

the loud, sudden noise attracts a few stares but this doesn’t stop john from placing his large paws on your ass and hoisting you up onto the table. he spreads your legs, making sure both of your feet are planted on the edge before pushing your skirts up to your hips

his hands caress your thighs, squeezing at the flesh there intermittently. he leans forwards and spits a large glob of saliva onto your cunt. the sensation combined with the booze causes you to let out a little gasp which soon turns into a soft moan when he leans forward and wraps his lips around your clit and sucks on it

your husband seems to pay no mind to the numerous set of eyes that are trained on you both in this moment. looking up at you though hooded eyes as he laps at your pussy

his beard against the sensitive skin of your cunt makes you giggle, your brain spinning at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue spreading your folds apart before dipping into your entrance

your tipsy squeals and giggles making his cock twitch and leak against his hairy thigh. he takes one of his hands down to wrap around his cock, pumping it slowly with a tight grip. his other hand travels up your tummy where it meets yours, his thick fingers interlocking with yours as he moans into your pussy <3

[pholla-jm]

My Wife is Real

IMAGINE: MY WIFE IS REAL~ GOJO X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: not proof read. use of y/n. use of she/her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who do you think he’s texting?” Nobara whispers to her two classmates, Yuji and Megumi. 

Their teacher, Gojo Satoru, sat at his desk. Legs kicked up onto the desk while he was on his phone, giggling here and there. 

It was questionable if Gojo even knew that class had started. 

Megumi didn’t even bother to pay attention. He also sat on his phone, scrolling through social media. 

“I don’t know…” Yuji ponders. “Ugh, he has to be harassing a poor soul.” Yuji gasps at Nobara’s response, “no.” 

Nobara sits up in her seat, “Gojo-sensei,” she calls out. Gojo peeks up, “oh. I didn’t know you were here.” “Maybe if you stopped bothering people, you would notice.” 

Gojo places his hand on his chest and gasps dramatically. “I am not bothering anyone.” “Then who are you texting?” “My wife, duh.” 

Nobara bursts out laughing, “hahaha, yeah… yeah right.” She wheezes. Tears left the corner of her eyes as she tried to take him seriously, but she really couldn’t. 

Yuji just stares at him in confusion, “you’ve never told me about his wife. I don’t believe you.” 

Gojo gasps in shock and disbelief at his student’s words. “Huh?! I do too have a wife. That hurts my feelings that you don’t believe me!” 

Gojo’s full focus was on his students now. Trying to convince them that his wife is indeed real. “She’s literally the best person in the whole world, and the prettiest.” 

Nobara scoffs and rolls her eyes, “stop making things up Gojo-sensei. It’s getting sad at this point.” 

Gojo pouts at her words. He then grabs his phone, typing something in his phone. He puts his phone down with a triumphant smile on his face. “You’ll see.” 

“Yeah… we’ll see.” Nobara says to Megumi and Yuji. 

Megumi on the other hand was not paying attention to a single thing that was going on. He assumed something stupid was going on, so why even bother to pay attention? Yuji just has a thoughtful look on his face, trying to remember any mention of a wife. But there is no mention of one. 

“Yeah… I think you’re making this up… sorry Gojo-sensei.” “This is just getting sad…” Nobara whispers while shaking her head. 

“I can’t believe my student’s have little faith in me.” 

Only five minutes passed of slight bickering between until a knock was heard at the door. The bickering died down and all heads turned towards the door. 

Nobara’s and Yuji’s eyes widen seeing a woman at the door. 

“Who is that?” Yuji whispers to Nobara. She shrugs her shoulders, “has to be someone he hired.” 

Gojo jumps from his chair, a huge smile on his face. “Wifey!” 

He runs over to you, pulling you into a tight hold. 

You let out a strangled gasp from the impact. “Gojo,” you start, “this is the second time you forgot your lunch… and it’s only Tuesday.” 

Gojo pulls back, a faux pout on his lips, “I’m sorry.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I bet you’re just using this as an excuse to see me.” “Whoops, you caught me. Well, while you’re here. Let me introduce you to my students.” 

“Wait wait-” You didn’t get a chance to stop him because he dragged you into the front of the classroom. 

You eye the three students. Megumi had finally put down the phone, giving you an apologetic look. Nobara and Yuji were looking at you in shock. 

“Students, this is my wife, (y/n).” Gojo basically shows you off with a bright smile on his face. Hands in a jazz hand formation. You nervously smiled at the students. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello Gojo-san.” Megumi quietly said, but it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. You gave the boy a sweet smile, nodding at him. 

“What?! Do you know her?” Nobara and Yuji ask him. “Yes…” 

“Yes, they’ve known each other for quite awhile now…. Sorry guys. She’s a bit shy.” Gojo says while you continue to smile at them. 

“They didn’t believe Gojo-sensi had a wife..” Megumi tells you. 

You hum before turning to Gojo, “I see… I don’t blame them.” 

“Huh?! What is that supposed to mean?” You roll your eyes. “Ever so dramatic.” “...so mean.. How can my wife be so cruel?” 

“Ugh, no one cares,” Nobara sighs, “come sit down with us (y/n)-sensei. I have so much to ask you.” 

You just smile at the girl and move over to the desks. 

Gojo looks at you with a shocked look. Not believing that you were leaving his side. 

“What are you doing?” He asks you. You look back at him, “well, you wanted me to meet your students. So I’m getting to know them.” 

You give him a little smirk and Gojo knows that type of smirk. The one where he’s going to regret his actions later. 

Maybe not now, but he knows that this decision will come to bite him.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Car Rides

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Road trips are usually pretty boring, but you and Bucky find a way to pass the time.

Warnings: Smut, Public sex, Car sex, Language, Fluff, Mutual Pining,

Word Count: 1.8K

A/n: I got this request AGES ago apparently and I'm only just seeing it now! hope y'all enjoy!

~*~

"Can you move your seat up?"

There's a brief pause, almost like Sam's thinking about it, before - "no."

Silence hangs heavily in the car for a long moment as Steve drives and you can't help but feel bad for Bucky.

He's squished in behind Sam, While you've got a decent amount of room behind Steve.

"We can switch, if you want?" You offer quietly, nudging Bucky's knee with yours.

"Steve's not stopping the car just so Terminator can feel more comfortable," Sam interjects, ignoring the ice of Bucky's stare.

"I'm sure we can switch spots while he's driving. We've done far more on missions with less room, I have faith. Unbuckle your seatbelt."

"Yes ma'am."

You take off your own seatbelt, ignoring Steve's warning look in the rearview mirror.

"Okay, I'm gonna climb over you in the middle seat so when you scoot over I'll climb over and then we'll be set!"

Foolproof! Brilliant!

Bucky scoots over to the middle and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself, then grab his shoulders and stretch one leg over his lap.

Steve chooses that particular moment to hit a bump in the road, sending you tumbling into Bucky and forcing his face into your chest.

Your shirt of choice today is fairly low cut, leaving little to the imagination, even less now that Bucky's face is pressed to your goods.

Regaining your coordination feels like it takes a lifetime, but you eventually manage to pry your boobs out of Bucky's face and plop down in the seat behind Sam.

Your heart hammers in your chest and you avoid looking at Bucky with all your might as you put your seatbelt on.

It's no secret that there's tension between the two of you that has only been growing the more time you spend together, but now? Now that you pretty much forced him to motorboat you?

Horrible. Stupid. The worst idea you've ever had ever.

You almost pray for the car to roll off a cliff to save you from the embarrassment licking up your spine.

The ride is silent for a little while, with some of Sam's music being the only thing stopping it from being too heavy, and soon his soft snores accompany the tunes.

After maybe about half an hour, Bucky's knee brushes against yours once briefly, then rests against it more firmly, with purpose.

Your gaze darts over to him but he's got his eyes focused out the window. You let your eyes fall to where he's manspreading into your personal space, and freeze when your eyes land on the bulge in his pants.

The bulge that certainly was not there before the two of you switched spots, not that you looked.

And now you can't tear your eyes away from it.

Sure, all this time the two of you have been flirty and a little more than friendly, but never to this extent.

Your eyes raise to his face once more and your heart stops for a moment when you meet his gaze.

You're caught now.

Swallowing hard, you glance at his crotch once more then turn to look out your own window, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt at fighting the warmth that's quickly spreading.

Bucky rolls his window down, and the light mechanical whirring sound masks the soft gasp that leaves you when his hand lands on your thigh.

You glance down at where his hand is, watching as his fingers flex as he squeezes your supple flesh.

Your body acts on its own, thighs spreading slightly and giving him the green light he needs to slide his hand up closer to your centre.

Eyes focused on the rearview mirror, you slowly grab Bucky's discarded jacket and drape it over your lap while spreading your legs further, successfully hiding his fingers as they dust over your core.

"Cold?" He asks, glancing at you as he slides his hand down your pants.

You swallow hard and nod, leaning back and breathing through your mouth as he slides a thick finger through your folds.

"With the window open it's a little breezy, but the fresh air is nice," you whisper, breath hitching when he rubs your clit gently.

He nods his agreement, coating his middle finger in your essence then slowly pushing it inside of you.

"Clears the head."

You nod, eyes falling shut as he begins a steady pace, pushing on your walls deliciously slow.

"Exactly," the words are a mere breath on your lips as you lose yourself in the feeling of him.

He leans his head back, his eyes focused on your face as he massages your walls, pulling his finger out only to push two right back in.

He watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as you try your hardest to stay quiet through the slow building pleasure.

It's almost torturously slow, and he knows that, but watching your small twitches and movements has Bucky's dick growing hard enough to cut diamonds.

"We got a good day for this, huh?" Bucky asks, grinning when you struggle to open your eyes.

"Yeah it's... good... it's really good," you whisper, eyelids fluttering slightly before you finally raise your glassy eyes to his.

"I could go for a snack soon though, something sweet to eat."

"Mhmm," you let out a soft moan of agreement as he slips a third finger inside you, pumping them in and out at a slightly faster speed than before.

Not fast enough to draw attention to the two of you, but fast enough for you to be struggling to keep still.

"Next gas station isn't too far out. They probably won't have much but we can stop there to grab a snack and stretch," Steve's voice says from the front seat, his eyes glancing at you and Bucky in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

"Sounds good to me," Bucky says, his voice low and his mischievous eyes focused on you as you nod your agreement.

You dig your head back into the headrest, toes curling in your shoes as his palm rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of your wet heat.

He stretches your walls deliciously, enhanced senses picking up the tangy sweet smell of your cunt on every gust of wind that blows through the car.

He can't help but lick his lips, greatly looking forward to tasting you once he's finished enjoying fingering your tight snatch.

Eyes slowly opening, you let your head roll to the side eyes finding his as you breathe softly through your mouth.

He grins cheekily at you and stuffs his fingers inside of you a little harder, watching in smug satisfaction when your face screws up with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

The car slowly rolls to a stop and Steve lets out a groan.

"All right. I'm gonna stretch my legs and grab a snack. Are you guys coming in?" Steve's eyes find Bucky's as he opens the door.

Sam jolts upright with a groan, rubbing his face then yawning and pulling off his seatbelt.

"I'm gonna come inside," He says groggily, stumbling out of the car and stretching.

"I think we're good back here, she's falling asleep," Bucky whispers, giving your clit a particularly rough rub before pulling his fingers out of you.

Sam and Steve head into the gas station, and as soon as they are out of sight Bucky is tossing the jacket off of your lap and yanking your pants down your legs.

He licks his fingers clean while using his other hand to undo his belt and shuck his pants down his thighs, exposing his weeping hot cock.

"We don't have much time, sweetheart, better make it count. N'when we get to the cabin I'll fuck you nice and slow and proper," he promises quietly.

You straddle his waist once more, wet core dripping onto his lap and Bucky can't help but hiss when he slides his aching cock through your folds.

He rubs your clit a few times then slides inside in one quick thrust, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow the sound of your moan.

With the window open, you guys aren't exactly safe. Anyone could drive or walk by and Sam and Steve will likely only be gone for a few minutes.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby... shit..."

His voice is strained as you begin rocking your hips in his lap, eyes squeezed shut as the tip of his cock drags across your g-spot.

Rather than let you have your fun, he flips you onto your back in the back seat of the car and hammers his hips down to meet yours, his lips trailing over your throat as you moan softly at the new angle.

He's hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and kissing your cervix with every other roll of his hips.

The pleasure and pain mix and make your head foggy, and it doesn't take long for your toes to curl around Bucky's hips and your climax to creep up on you.

Metal fingers toy with your clit with expert precision, and within only a few moments, your walls are clamping down around him and successfully milking him of his cum.

He lets out a few shuddering breaths as his own orgasm washes over him, balls tight as he pumps you full of ropes and ropes of thick white cum.

His head rests on your chest for a moment, breathing you in as he basks in his high, and then he's carefully pulling out of you and yanking his pants back on.

You, on the other hand, are stuck on your back as aftershocks wrack your frame.

Chuckling softly at his handy work, Bucky helps you back into your pants then pulls you up into his arms.

You collapse against his chest when he leans back against the door, cuddled in his arms as much as you can in the cramped backseat of the car.

He holds you gently, his own eyes closing as he relaxes into his post orgasmic bliss with you.

Your heart is racing even minutes later when Sam and Steve return to the car, each climbing in quietly when they see the two of you curled up together.

Steve sets a grocery bag full of snacks and drinks down on the floor in the backseat, then turns the music on quietly and starts driving, oblivious to what's just gone on.

As he drives you settle against Bucky, falling asleep gently while his load drips out of your swollen cunt. A mess he plans on thoroughly cleaning up as soon as you reach your destination.

[headkiss]

I LOVE the idea of protective Hotch constantly having an eye out for younger bau!agent who’s literally sunshine personified and the complete opposite of him!! Do u think u could write something along the lines of that—maybe him protecting her from something or just their dynamic?

i also love protective hotch!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it baby :D | 1k of fluff, tw for a small burn!

You’d been surprised when you got a job at the BAU. You didn’t have that much faith in yourself at first. Not to say you don’t believe in your skills, but it’s a widely known part of the bureau. A lot of people wanted the job.

And then, there’s Agent Hotchner, unit chief and intimidating though you’re sure he doesn’t mean to be. You were insanely nervous at the beginning.

That was before you started, before the team welcomed you as the new media liaison after Agent Jareau became a profiler. You met Garcia and her collection of fun high heels, Reid and his never ending supply of facts, and you sort of fit right in.

Hotch became much less intimidating. A kind man who cares so deeply for his team that you couldn’t help but like him the way you do. Not to mention the dynamic that built between the two of you.

The small things he does for you that are impossible to ignore. A hand covering the edge of your desk to protect your head when you were searching underneath it for a dropped paper clip, the way he physically places himself between you and danger if he ever gets the chance.

He’s always there, protecting you in ways both big and little, and you enjoy it more than you should.

It’s even brighter on nights like tonight. Drinks and snacks at Penelope’s after a tough case. Nights when you get to call him Aaron instead of Hotch, when he smiles and laughs freely without restraint.

The beep of the oven cuts off yours and Garcia’s conversation, and when she shifts to take care of it, you stop her, “I got it! You’re already hosting, just relax a little.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, squeezing your arm as you walk by.

The smell of food in the oven hits your nose as you walk into the kitchen, humming along to whatever song spills through the speakers.

You pull the oven open, reaching in without thinking and touching the pan with your bare hand. You drop it quickly, metal clanking as it falls back onto the rack in the oven.

“Shit!” You say it loudly, and then, even louder, addressing the team in the next room, “I’m okay!”

They all laugh a little at your reassurance, and then, like they know he wouldn’t let anyone else check on you before him, pretty much every set of eyes in the room lands on Hotch.

He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen, because he would’ve gone either way.

“You okay?” He asks, finding you with an oven mitt on your non-burnt hand, reaching into the oven, and your burnt hand shaking by your side.

“Oh!” You set the pan of nachos on top of the stove and slip off the mitt, turning off the oven and looking at Hotch. “I forgot oven mitts were a thing for a second there. Burnt my hand, I think.”

He’s on you in a second, his hands gently grasping your injured arm, pushing back your sleeve and guiding you over to the sink. His hold is light, never bruising even though you know he has the strength to do so.

It’s the kiss of sunlight on skin.

Aaron turns on the sink, places his fingers under the water to make sure the temperature’s okay before guiding your hand under the stream.

“You still took out the nachos first?” He asks, even when he knows that’s what you’d do, because of course you’re worrying about everyone else before yourself.

“I didn’t want them to burn.”

You’re trying to be brave, though your hand hurts so much there are tears misting your eyes. You’re bouncing on your feet a little to try and deal with the pain.

“How bad does it hurt?” Hotch checks.

Aaron’s felt this sort of protectiveness over you ever since you started. A little younger than him, this ball of light that’s come bursting into his life. You’re always the positive one, even in the darkest situations and he can’t help but want to shield you to keep it that way.

There’s this thing in his chest that tugs and tugs when you’re around, that makes him stand next to you in any room, in front of you in darkness.

“It’s okay,” you say, though your voice cracks a little. “I’m sure you’ve seen much worse, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminds you gently, “and you don’t have to pretend. It’s alright if it hurts, I just wanna help.”

The sink running mingles with the music coming from the next room, the background noise to your moment with him.

“You could bring the nachos out? I told Garcia I would, but we see how that turned out.”

“Okay, I'll bring them out.”

“Don’t forget oven mitts!”

He huffs with a smile, somehow always surprised with how easily you can turn something around. A smile on your face even with tears shining in your eyes and a hand that’s surely stinging.

Aaron carries the tray of nachos and drops them off, then turns to Penelope, “you have a first aid kit?”

“Oh my gosh! Yeah, bathroom cabinet, I can grab it.”

“It’s alright, Garcia. I’ll get it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing major, I’m taking care of it.”

He grabs the first aid kit and heads back to the kitchen where you’re still holding your hand under the stream of water.

“Okay,” Aaron sets the kit down on the counter, opening it and then turning off the tap. “Let me see, honey.”

The word melts into you, sticky sweet, and you hold your hand towards him, palm up.

He starts by drying your hand with a piece of paper towel, pressing your skin lightly. His other hand is under yours, his palm against the back of your hand a painkiller in itself.

You hiss when he hits a sensitive spot, and he’s quick to apologize, his voice low and quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Almost done.”

“It’s okay, Aaron. It's not your fault I thought I was heat-proof.”

“You’re cute.”

A smile spreads over your face, your head tilted down to stare and his hands around yours. You watch him spread some Polysporin over your burn, his fingertips featherlight over your skin, soft apologies leaving him every time you flinch a little.

By the time he’s done, the first aid kit shut on the counter, you’ve both forgotten about the rest of the team in the next room. Aaron’s happy to bask in your sunshine.