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becca-e-barnes · 11 months

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all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.

Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈

But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.

"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."

His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.

"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."

Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.

"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.

"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.

He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.

"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.

You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.

He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.

Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.

He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.

It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #anon #needy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut #sub!bucky #bucky barnes smut #subby!bucky #this should technically belong to the shs series #but it fit this prompt too well so I'm using it here #I make the rules 😇#but that 'thank you' nearly killed me #I've noticed this week that my beige flag is that I get so frustrated when people make assumptions about my capacity #I hate when people say stuff like 'how's the new job? you must be really stressed'#or worse 'things must be getting on top of you'#like ???#why would you assume I can't handle what I put on my own plate?#I know people mean well but it really bothers me

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legionofpotatoes · 6 months

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My annual N7 Day illustrations for the new Mass Effect game so far. Got them as wallpapers right here!

#twitter made me fit these to phone screens so may as well share it here too #last two work especially well!#mass effect #n7 day #my art #legionofpotatoes

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annqer · 1 month

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Don't you want to become a cult leader?

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royalarchivist · 8 months

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Foolish: You know what? Fit: it's the perfect alibi. "Just a janitor," going through... just to cleaning around everywhere... talk to a lot of people... and you're just bald and such, you know, no one would think twice that you- may be you'd up to something.

Fit: Foolish that's- that's literally the entire point, we've been over this.

Pac: You like the plumber's work, right? You like to get your hand in the plumber's and- do the stuffs, and plumb [makes a very loud popping sound] those pipes, right?

[Everyone loses it and starts laughing]

Pac: I'm sorry- I'm sor- I'm- [laughs] I did- I didn't mean-

Fit: WAS THE SOUND NECESSARY???

Foolish: No, the sound made it.

Pac: I didn't- I didn't hear myself- sorry, sorry, sorry. Oh my god, I'm so shy right now, I'm just gonna sit.

[Full transcript ↓ ]

Fit: Foolish that's- that's literally the entire point, we've been over this.

Foolish: Have we?

Fit: I said I'm- I'm trying to find out more about like, the Code Monsters!

Foolish: I thought you just wanted- liked being a janitor.

Fit: Well, I actually do kinda like it, I'll be honest with you, I like getting paid, but-

Foolish: Wait damnnit, Philza's doing it right.

Pac: You like the plumber's work, right?

Fit: Yeah.

Pac: You like to get your hand in the plumber's and- do the stuffs, and plumb [makes a very loud popping sound] those pipes, right?

[Everyone loses it and starts laughing]

Pac: I'm sorry- I'm sor- I'm- [laughs] I did- I didn't mean-

Fit: WAS THE SOUND NECESSARY???

Foolish: No, the sound made it.

Pac: I didn't- I didn't hear myself- sorry, sorry, sorry. Oh my god, I'm so shy right now, I'm just gonna sit.

#FitMC #PacTW #HideDuo #FitPac #QSMP #FoolishGamers #Philza #Foolish #Pac #Fit #Phil #The reason this took so long to edit is 100% because it gave me THAT bad second-hand embarassment #Me: Thank god I finally finished editing this now I never have to listen to it again #Me realizing I still have to write the transcripts: FRICK #In Pac's defense: you actually couldn't hear the pop that well from most stream POVs #unfortunately on Fit and Phil's stream (esp. Phil's stream) it was frickin HD quality #and VERY loud #They let Pac get away with this WAY too easily but you know what #the way he covered his face like that and immediately sat down in game was very cute #so I can't blame them for giving him a free pass #he's very cute when he's flustered #I always like the side-by-side reaction comparisons and I hope y'all do too!#Phil's reactions are always funny #''Every day Philza Miinecraft is oppressed by the gays''#Q #I really do need to spend less time doing stuff for this blog and the archive...#I'm not getting paid for it. It takes up way too much time #it is good video editing practice though but...#Edited

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fexiled · 3 months

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@stanuary Week Four: Strangers & Brothers

who are you again

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stan pines #stanford pines #ford pines #stanuary #forduary #tagging it forduary too bc it fits the themes and i know i'm not gonna draw anything else for it this month lol #fex draws #this is like. so far from what the concept looked like in my mind but oh well #it's done and thank god for that #bringing back the fun red/blue coloring i did for one of my pieces during the first forduary #did i do it better this time? you tell me!#eyestrain #eye strain #just in case

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stevebabey · 4 months

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steve harrington but it's that jeff winger moment from community. if u have seen community, u will know... my first stobin-centric piece <3 tw for parental neglect and a prior act of self-harm. this is absolutely on the steve harrington has bad parents train <3

“Steven, this is ridiculous.”

Robin freezes in place. Her hand hovers over the remote she's just placed back down, her limbs locking up one by one at the sound of the voice at the door.

It is not a familiar voice. She knows who it is all the same.

She fights not to move, knowing the couch springs, old and rusted, threaten to reveal her hiding place, even if it is her house. Robin is very much allowed to be here. Expected, even.

But Steve? Steve is not.

It’s why there’s one Christine Harrington on the dingy porch steps.

It’s an unwelcome surprise — even after all the fuss of the 4th of July, a thousand police sirens, endless NDAs, and too much blood on his uniform, Steve’s parents hadn’t shown.

Out of town, Steve had said, his bashed in face making it impossible to read his expression. His eyes were haunted and misty but Robin couldn’t tell if it was from the horror of the night or… a loneliness far older.

So Robin had done the fussing. Had dragged him home with her, shooed away her rightfully nosy parents, and mended him up on her bathroom counter.

Steve had been silent, a little wide-eyed as she worked on each cut, each bruise — but with her gentle touch, he had been helpless to do anything but melt beneath it.

He’d called her Robbie for the first time that night. They’d fallen asleep with their hands intertwined, her arm hanging off the bed to reach out to him on her bedroom floor.

Robin still hasn’t met Steve’s parents, even though it’s been more than a couple months since that night.

She’s been to his house countless times too. She knows where the spare key is, if she ever loses her own copy, that is. Knows which stair squeaks on the way up to the second floor and how the lock on the downstairs bathroom gets jammed too easily.

She’s eaten the best grilled cheese of her life in their kitchen, sitting on the counter.

She’s laughed so hard she’s cried on their couch, getting the throw pillows wet with her happy tears.

She’s still never met Steve’s parents. Til right now.

Christine Harrington has her arms wrapped tight around her frame and Robin has no doubt that on her face is a frown that could make babies cry.

She can’t see her face though. Can only just see a glimpse of her tense body from where she sits. Steve blocks part of her view, his own tense frame in the doorway.

He’d answered the door instead of Robin only because he had the foresight to glance at the front window after the first rap at the door. It was late. Robin’s parents certainly wouldn’t knock at their own home and neither of them were expecting visitors.

The expensive car in the drive, a sore thumb along Robin’s street, had given away the identity of just who was knocking so late in the evening. So, Steve had opened it.

“Mom—”

“I mean utterly ridiculous.” Steve gets cut off without second thought, Christine continuing on as if she hasn’t heard him at all.

“Did you expect us to spend all evening chasing you around? Figuring out where you were tonight from the Carlton’s across the road?”

She’s got this snippy tone that Robin’s heard a thousand times from teachers. Patronising. Too cold for it to seem like a genuinely concerned parent.

“The Carlton’s?” Steve echoes, a bit meek. His shoulders have rolled forward, sinking down a bit and Robin can see his tight grip on the door. Still, she stays frozen, rooted to the couch.

“Yes, Steven.” Christine says his full name again, all bite. “Imagine the shame your father and I felt hearing that. Hearing who you had been associating with.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve grits out immediately, anger bleeding into his tone.

The muscles in his back ripple as he forces his shoulders back, as if he had remembered how to stand up straight at the mention of his friend.

Robin aches; at the reminder of the stark differences of their upbringings and at Steve’s unquestionable loyalty. She finally unfreezes, sitting up a little straighter and leaning forward more— ready to spring up from her seat.

She’s not sure what for exactly. She sorta really wants to go slam the door on Steve’s mom’s face and go back to being bundled up on the couch with him. The urge is strong enough to make her fingers twitch.

“Why are you here, Mom?”

There’s a strain to Steve’s question, even though he doesn’t falter in appearance. Robin can’t see his face either though. She hopes it’s got the bitchiest expression Steve can muster.

“Don’t be smart, Steven.” Christine reprimands coldly. “I know that we may have taken a larger absence than intended but that’s not any excuse to parade yourself around with the strays of this town.”

Strays. Robin feels the word pelt into her and burn into her skin, sinking all the way down. It feels like cold water has tipped down the back of her neck. An unwelcome pit forms in her stomach.

She had known, of course, the reputation of a family like the Harrington's. She hadn’t quite known the extent they would go to protect it. Policing your child's friends over a matter of image is absurd.

Somehow, Robin can see how Steve grows even tenser at his mom’s words— hackles raising like that on a dog. His knuckles turn white. But before he speaks, Christine is barreling on like she hasn’t just slandered every one of Steve’s new friends.

“And to leave the house in such a state?”

Robin hears her sigh heavily, as though this really is the biggest problem in her life — which she can’t fathom in the slightest.

There was nothing wrong with Steve’s house. No mess beyond the usual evidence that someone, you know, lived there.

“Mom, I—” Steve starts again.

“Well, I’m sure you have your reasons. You always do.” She says it so pointedly, like Steve was known for peddling lies to weasel his way out of trouble.

It’s so un-Steve it makes Robin blink hard, wondering if she had heard right.

Steve was honest. He owned his mistakes and he took things on the chin. It was something she had liked most about him in the beginning.

Back when it was all snark and Robin told herself she was never going to be his friend, in this universe or anything other. That even then, reluctant co-worker and nothing more, Steve was honest and decent to her always.

“Now, come on now.” Christine Harrington huffs out her demand. “Your father is waiting in the car and there no use winding him up more than you already have.”

Robin’s stomach turns at her words. It had been a topic of discussion between them, one night weeks ago, lips loosened by the dark. I feel like a dog to them, Steve had admitted quietly, his breath against her pillow and his warmth under her sheets. Like they just leave alone most of the time but expect me to perk up and come running the moment they call. I hate it.

“I’m not coming with you.”

The words stammer on their way out like he had forced them out— and Robin wants to sing she’s so proud of her best friend.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not coming with you.” Steve repeats himself, the words a little firmer this time. “I’m… I’m spending the night here, with my friend Robin.”

He trails off, the words weaker, losing steam. Robin rises to her feet, the tell-tale squeak of the couch springs letting Steve know she was still here. Still right behind him.

It makes him stand a little straighter.

“I— I’ll come home in the morning.”

Christine Harrington makes a little scoffing noise, a high pitched faux laugh as if Steve’s said something amusing.

“Tell me when did I raise such an ungrateful brat?” She muses meanly and Robin doesn’t miss the way Steve flinches lightly. “We give you free rein of the house, apt time by yourself, and yet when we request you to spend a single evening with us—”

“You’re not asking, you’re demanding.” Steve cuts in, his voice more heated now.

“Oh hush, Steven. You act as if we’re so awful.”

It’s all dismissal. Everything, every word, a dismissal.

“I just can’t win with you, can I?” Christine sighs again, disappointment dripping from the sound. “Either we’re not here enough or we’re here but you can’t find time to have dinner with your family. Which is it, Steven?”

In the doorway, Steve begins to bristle. Robin really, really wants to slam the door now — if only to stop this conversation that seems to keep cutting deeper and deeper into her best friend.

She steps closer to him, moving as silently as she can, and makes sure to stay out of sight as she places a hand gently on the small of his back.

He’s shaking, she realises.

Her heart twists painfully in her chest.

Then, deathly calm, Steve says, “Did you know in 7th grade, I lied and I told everyone in my class that I got appendicitis?”

Robin blinks at the change in subject, the strangeness of Steve’s comment. She does remember that, vaguely. A boy in the year above— it had been a wildfire rumour that had turned out to be true.

Or so she thought. Staring hard at the planes of Steve’s back, the pit in her stomach yawns with an anticipation of devastation. Her hand on his back curls up a bit.

“You and Dad were gone for the whole month to Washington. It was the first time you had ever gone for that long and you didn’t even tell me until the day before you left.”

“Steven—”

“I just wanted someone to worry about me.” He steamrolls on, tone too casual for the story he was telling. “And it worked."

A beat.

"But then Cassie Lange asked about the scar.”

Robin’s hand on Steve's back twists up tighter. She feels like she knows what’s coming— but wishes it to be not true.

She doesn’t want to think of Steve, little twelve year old Steve, doing all that he can for a scrap of attention he was supposed to be getting from his parents.

“And rather than admit I’d lied…” The words come out too tight. “I went and found your sewing scissors and I made one.”

There’s this icy bite to Steve’s voice, his shoulders tensed back up. Christine still hasn’t said anything.

“I hurt like a bitch but it was worth it. I got a card from every single person in my class.”

“You wanna see the scar?” He asks— then he’s moving, his hand rucking up his sweater and shirt and exposing the skin of his stomach. Christine makes a noise like a muffled gasp. Robin feels a bit sick. Steve drops his shirt.

“And I kept all of those cards I got —all 17 of them stashed them under my bed in a box that I still have til this day.” He exhales through his nose. “Because it was proof that, at some point, somebody actually gave a shit about me. Because you didn’t. You didn’t then and you don’t get to now.”

His words hang in the air. There’s a long stretch of silence where Steve stares down the woman on the porch— someone closer to a stranger than a friend.

“So, I will see you at home, tomorrow.”

And then he slams the door to Robin’s house shut with a finality that shakes the air. Robin tenses up at the loud noise. Steve doesn't move, just stays staring at the closed door.

Behind them both, one of the noisy pipes in the house makes a loud noise. It sounds worse than usual as it breaks the silence.

Outside, Robin hears the click of heels on the pavement as they quieten, moving further away.

The pit in her stomach tightens immeasurably, a faint bile taste in her mouth. She finally remembers to smooth out her hand, pressing it flat against Steven’s back— another reminder that she was there.

If he wanted to talk or he didn’t, she was there.

Suddenly Steve sighs, an exhale so large that he shrinks down a couple inches, his shoulders dropping. It sounds exhausted.

He finally turns away from the door, to Robin, and she can only hope her face conveys every ounce of love, of support, she feels within her chest.

“Steve…” She breathes softly.

He wasn’t crying but just the sound of his name, spoken so delicately, seems to inspire tears. Robin catches the tremble of his lip and moves without thought— throwing both her arms around his neck and wrestling him into a hug.

Steve goes easy, his arms snaking around her middle and holding her back so tightly it nearly makes her squeak. She doesn’t though— just lets him bury his face in her neck, taking these big shuddering breaths, these half-formed sobs that break her heart clean in half.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there. Car engines drone as they pass by the street. The streetlights seem to get brighter. Steve presses himself so close to her, as close as he can, and Robin hugs back just as tight. She gives him all the time he needs.

She wonders if there’s an indent of him on her when he finally pulls back — a Steve Harrington shaped outline imprinted on her soul. It feels like there is.

If she could trace it, she thinks, it would be whatever shape love takes.

“Thanks Robbie.” He croaks out. He’s started scrubbing furiously at his face and she can see the wet sheen of tears as he wipes them away.

Robin doesn’t move far, just unwinds her arms a bit and lets them fall back to her sides. There’s an ache between her brows from how long she’s been frowning in concern. Steve looks more disheveled than usual, his usually perfect hair looking flatter — but he looks lighter too, somehow.

“No need to thank me, dingus.” She says, voice soft. She faux punches his chest and then regrets it when his lips don’t even twitch upward. It’s weird to see Steve all undone.

Robin thinks back to that conversation and the callousness of Steve’s mom. Her uncaring tone, the use of his full name like an insult.

She thinks of what Steve had said.

“I’m sorry you felt—” The words get stuck in her throat which grows thicker as she thinks about it. About a self-made scar on Steve’s abdomen, made by a twelve year old boy who just wanted someone to worry.

“—That you felt like you had to do something like that to yourself. I’m sorry no one noticed what you really needed.”

Steve nods slowly, his eyes glazed with a far away look as he stares somewhere over Robin’s shoulder. He gives this little shrug, a little huff through his nose.

“It’s okay.” He says, voice a bit distant. “I mean, it’s not but… even if I hadn’t meant to tell you, I’m glad someone knows now.”

It takes another second before he finally seems to shake himself from his thoughts, turning to properly look at Robin. His eyes are red-rimmed and the tip of his nose is pink. Tell tale signs of tears.

“I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Robin swallows thickly and it takes effort to choke down the urge to cry.

“Well,” She starts. It comes out too high pitched and tight and she clears her throat. “Thank you for telling me.

Some kind of smile plays on Steve’s lips, as if he can tell that she’s fighting off her sniffling and it’s sorta funny to him. It is, a little.

Because instead of being embarrassed or feeling pitied, he feels… delightfully surprised to have her care so much. To be so upset on his behalf.

“Oh, c’mon Robbie,” He gives her that same faux-punch in the shoulder she did earlier and it actually succeeds in making her lips pull up at the edges. “None of that.”

“You’re such a dingus.” Robin says. It comes out a bit wobbly still. Sue her— she doesn’t have Steve’s insane ability to bounce from one emotion to another in a single second.

Steve grins. He wanders back to the couch and flops down onto it. Robin follows and when she sits down, it’s a fraction closer to him this time. He gives one last scrub of his face, wiping the last of his tears away.

She nudges him with her thigh. She has to check just one more time.

“You alright?”

Steve smiles, crooked in that way that lets her know it’s completely sincere. He reaches forward and presses unmute on the remote, the film they’re watching starting up again with a buzz.

Steve presses his thigh back against Robin’s and in the dim lighting of her living room, his eyes glitter with an emotion that threatens to make her want to cry once more.

“Course.” He says. “I got someone checking up on me now,”

Another pointed nudge of his thigh against hers. “I’m better than ever.”

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galaghiel · 6 months

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another one banished to wip hell

#fnaf #michael afton #me doods #argh using the tablet is more tiring than the laptop #less precise too so idk if i can finish this one #i was thinking of the eng cover of unravel when i was drawing this #'well now who could it be that lives inside of me?' like c'mon yall it fits #unravel is a michael afton song you heard it folks

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asliceofzosan · 6 months

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i've seen figure skater sanji and hockey player zoro before. idk if its been explored but i'd love to put it out there:

hockey player sanji (specifically goalie bc he desperately wants to avoid being checked) and then pairs skater zoro.

pairs skater zoro's long time partner has been nami. though many people ship them together a Lot, they just know each other super well. Well enough to try dating and both of them realized they don't swing that way. in fact, it makes them a really good team. they fought long and hard to claim top spots in competitions because they portray a chemistry that's separate from the rest. plus zoro can carry nami like she weighs fucking nothing. so their lifts are so much more dynamic. they even have a whole next to impossible combination that they're trying to get the ISU to name after them officially.

sanji plays for the East Blue Straw Hats in the Grand Line Hockey League – a formidable rookie group that took down lots of big names in the preseason. they want to make it all the way to the postseason playoff finals but always seem to fall short. but theyre so determined. they reignited a lot of old sparks that were no longer there for old fans and brought in new and curious fans. sanji is the starter goalie and a damn good one at that. it makes sense bc goalies are often doing splits on the ice just to make a save. he's perfected the technique that utilizes just his legs to make saves that make the crowd go fuckin insane.

we have the usual "i booked the rink to practice before you did" trope but a little more spice. in actuality, sanji loves watching pairs skating competitions. his favorite pair rn is franky and robin (mostly for robin). and he adamantly does not want to admit to anyone that he watches zoro and nami's routines much more frequently. (and if anyone asks, he always says its bc of nami. its never just bc of nami.) and zoro's besties with luffy so he always watches their matches even if he barely understands the rules. and he definitely does not stare at a certain blond starter goalie most of the match thats fucking ridiculous

one day zoro and sanji are invited to do one of those comparison videos between hockey players and figure skaters. both get to laugh at the other even Attempting to do their sport. zoro frankly looks ridiculous in all of sanji's usual goalie get-up. and sanji couldn't land an euler to save his life. the video producer suggests they try a simple pairs skating routine. sanji is like "oh i couldn't do that–hEY WHAT THE FUCK MOSSHEAD PUT ME DOWN" because zoro lifted sanji and had him sat on his shoulder like it was normal.

zoro smirks, "you might be lighter than nami, actually. wanna be my new partner?"

sanji knees him in the stomach before skating away while blushing so hard he could melt the ice beneath him.

#listen #both figure skating (most especially pairs skating and ice dancing) AND hockey were my hyperfixations at one point #and zoro? built like a pairs skating man #sanji? has the ass of a hockey player #iT MAKES SENSE TO ME !#but also the dichotomy of zoro doing a graceful sport and sanji in a fast paced brutal game #idk man im too tired to psychoanalyze why i think pairs skating actually works well with zoro's philosophy on strength and balance #and sanji's phobia of being checked tied to many little league games that led him to become a formidable goalie #i COULD GO ON #But i will sleep instead #one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan #niki's log: op #niki's fics: checks and balances #dO YOU GET THE PUN IN THE TITLE GOD IM SO ANNOYING !!!!!#lowkey my contribution to zosan week even if it might not fit any promprs #i just wanna feel included

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