#so i'm not feeling too fucking charitable right now

[bread-tab]

after 24 hours, some time for reflection, a smidgen of sleep, a work shift, and receiving a space-themed bandaid i have decided that

a) it was absolutely reasonable for my therapist to call me out on my chronic lateness and general disorganization, i was getting too comfortable in a socially unacceptable behavior and needed a kick in the pants to help me change; it would also have been reasonable for her to fire me over that

AND

b) it is also absolutely reasonable for me to be pissed off at her for basically calling me a manipulative malingering manchild (except with no cool alliteration or pizazz whatsoever), dismissing the concept of executive dysfunction, and blaming me for still having anxiety in the process

AND OH HEY LOOK I'M STILL DOING MY DIALECTICS, ASSHOLE, HOW'S THAT FOR "NOT DOING ANYTHING TO GET BETTER"

#yeah we are going to have WORDS #someone may get fired and idk if it's going to be her or me #which would be a shame because i like her #but holy fucking shit man #trying to give her the benefit of the doubt and the best explanation i can think of is she's trying a last-ditch 'tough love' approach #for like motivational purposes #but she just flushed a significant percentage of my respect for her into the sewer #and triggered one of the worst intrusive thoughts episodes of my life #so i'm not feeling too fucking charitable right now #sorry for not picking up on your goddamn HINTS ma'am i guess you thought the autism diagnosis was decorative? #i know i'm being a *little* dramatic here #and more than a little biased #but golly gee i just had a major emotional breakdown FOR SOME REASON #and that's making rational thinking kind of DIFFICULT #venting #rant #personal #ableism cw #caps cw #salty breadtab #breadtab life #reblogs off

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Hi, can I request comfort fic with Frank? I just don't really like how my life looks right now... I don't like my job, but don't know what else I can do so I'm stuck here... and I feel really lonely recently and like I don't know what to do with my life... and reading fics are one of the few things that brings me joy...

So I thought about a fic where reader is sad and to cheer her up Frank planned a whole day for them to distract her from not kind thoughts?

And I'm sorry that I kinda dumpt it on you... I have trouble with expressing/describing my emotions and I think that was the first time I expressed those feelings to someone... Of course if you don't feel like writing this you can freely ignore this message, thank you 🫶🏻

Anon, I absolutely feel your pain. I’ve been dealing with my own work drama for months now and some days it feels like I’m going to have to completely start over to be happy. I hope I did your request justice, and if you ever need to rant to someone, my DMs are open :)

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary:  Frank helps you when work is breaking your spirit.

warnings: swearing, hints of smut but nothing graphic

w/c: 3k

Digging your jagged nails into the flesh of your palms, you forced yourself to tune out the overwhelming plethora of stimuli that was currently bombarding you on the subway. Screaming children, the heat of bodies crowding around you, the shrieking of wheels on metal tracks, some old guy coughing up a lung at the back of the car, the bright fluorescent lights beating down on the dozens of people crammed in here like sardines. Fuck, you hated the subway. 

It was especially unbearable on days where you were already overtired from work—which, recently, seemed to be every day. This job was supposed to be your ticket to a good life and a stable future, but instead it was a joyless, energy-sapping, waste of your fucking time. Your coworkers were catty, your boss far too demanding for the bottom of the barrel wages you received, and the work itself was dreary. Each day you sat in that cubicle, you could feel the light inside you flickering, just waiting for one more lackluster employee review to be completely snuffed out. 

Clearly, you weren’t the only one who felt this way about your place of employment, given that over a third of the staff at your level had quit in the last two months. Unfortunately for you, this meant longer hours and crankier conversations with your superiors, who were consistently disappointed in your performance despite you efficiently accomplishing everything that was asked of you. 

Not only did longer hours lead to you getting overstimulated on the subway, but it meant you’d been spending less time at home with your boyfriend. You’d barely seen Frank this month, between his trips out of town and your rigorous schedule, and it was driving you up a wall. All you wanted was to let him wrap himself around you, petting your hair as you cried and holding you tight when you eventually fell asleep. Though, with the way your days were going lately, most of the time you didn’t want to be touched. You just wanted to shove crap food in your mouth and pass out before you had to go back to that hellscape in the morning. 

Frank was the kindest, most thoughtful partner you’d ever had, so he gave you plenty of space on the days you came home in an emotion-filled silence. He could read your moods pretty well at this point, and always respected your wishes, even if it meant he’d be nursing a beer in the living room alone until he went to sleep. You’d hoped that today would grant you enough energy to enjoy some time with him, but the world wasn’t that charitable. 

Shuffling off the subway amongst the masses, you let your body droop slightly as you trudged back to your apartment. Practically crawling up the stairs, you eventually reached the door—shoving it open in frustration as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. 

Instantly, you were greeted with the sound of soft music and the smell of onions and garlic cooking. Frank was in the kitchen, swaying almost imperceptibly to the song he was listening to, stirring a pot of what looked like tomatoes.  

“Hey, doll,” He greeted you softly, throwing you a smile over his shoulder but remaining planted at the stove, probably in an attempt to give you space.

“Hi.” Your voice was breathy and small, your stony face accented with glassy eyes. 

Frank knew better than to expect that everything would change in a day, but the sight of your crumpling face broke his heart. Stepping towards you with a furrowed brow, he tried for a small smile. “Another bad day?” 

You nodded, the force of the movement drawing two parallel tears down your cheeks. Sniffling, you didn’t respond, confident that your voice would crack if you did. 

“Do you want a hug?” Frank asked, hesitating a few feet from you as he waited for your answer. 

“I’m n-not sure, Frankie.” You admitted, more tears pooling as you did. “Not r-right now, I think.” 

Nodding in understanding, Frank crossed his arms, as if to keep himself from hugging you anyway. “Alright, sweet girl. Not a problem. Why don’t you go lay down while I finish dinner, hm?” 

Sighing, you nodded once, padding to the bedroom and collapsing into the blankets with a poorly stifled sob. Frank winced at the sound, his hands burning with an ache to hold you, to make everything better, but he couldn’t do that until you were ready. 

You’d only given him glimpses of the nightmare you were living. Whether you didn’t talk to him about it because you were worried it would scare him away, or because you didn’t trust him, he wasn’t sure—though the dark parts of his mind were convinced it was the latter. Regardless, Frank did his best to maintain a cozy home for you. It couldn’t be easy to have a mass-murderer-turned-government-hit-man as a partner, waiting around on your own for days while he worked odd jobs for Madani, but you’d never let it impact your love for him. 

You were thoughtful, sweet, and adorably shy—not to mention you balanced him out in ways he’d never expected. The pair of you brought out the best in each other, despite your peculiar relationship. You’d never made him feel distant or guilty for leaving, simply welcoming him back from his trips with open arms and eager eyes. Yet, the past few months your job had been eating at you, sapping the life from your beautiful eyes and leaving a listless husk of his girlfriend behind. 

He didn’t want to pry, far too afraid of snapping your already fragile composure and ruining the bond you shared. But every day you came home holding back tears, and it was going to kill him. He’d rip your office apart with his bare hands if it would end your misery, though he knew you’d never ask him to do that. 

So, instead, he did as much as he could—laying out his softest sweatshirt on your bed, playing quiet music, making a warm meal for the two of you to share—all in an effort to take something off of your plate, to remove an ounce of weight from your shoulders. After a week with no indication that any of this was helpful, he’d started scheming. 

Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too much begging to convince you to take an extra day off…

Stirring the tomato sauce one final time as he removed it from the heat, he tilted the pot over the cooked pasta, letting a ribbon of sauce drape over the noodles before giving it a quick stir. Scraping a dollop of sauce out of the pot with his finger, he popped the digit in his mouth, eyes closing in satisfaction at the array of flavors. 

Brushing his hands across his jeans, he plated two generous helpings of pasta, assuming you had worked through lunch once again, and set them in front of two chairs at your table. Steeling himself for the sight of your tear streaked face, he shuffled over to the bedroom and knocked softly. 

“Darlin’? You ready to eat?” Keeping his voice low, he gingerly opened the door. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light that managed to slip through your curtains, his heart squeezed at the sight of you sleeping, curled in fetal position. Your delicate hands clenched around your covers like they were your lifeline, your damp face squashed against his pillow. Biting his lip in thought, he returned to the main room to cover the pasta. 

Spending very little time tidying up, he wandered back into the bedroom, stripping out of his clothes in exchange for a pair of sweats and a worn Henley. Settling behind you with a book in hand, he slipped under the covers as unobtrusively as possible before his inner monologue made him pause. Would you even want him beside you? Was he crossing a line?

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about that for long as your sleeping form unconsciously wrapped around him, a small sigh falling from your lips as you nuzzled into his stomach. Smiling down at you, his free hand came up to stroke over your hair, his own grin widening when the soft touch made your lips twitch up in a sleepy smile. He thumbed through about a chapter of his book before you began to stir, shining lashes fluttering as your eyes opened. As the sleep disappeared from your eyes, Frank felt another wave of apprehension cresting in his chest, but the tide was quickly settled by your sweet gaze. Nestling into his side more deeply, you hummed in appreciation. “Hi, Frankie.” 

“Hi, sweet girl. Did you have a good nap?” A teasing mirth danced in his gaze, making you avert your eyes bashfully. 

“Mmm hmm. Sorry.” You murmured, rubbing your face against the fabric of his shirt. 

Clucking his tongue, Frank slid down to face you, tracing a thumb over your cheek. “No reason to be sorry, dollface. I’m glad you slept, you’ve been tired.” 

Sighing deeply, you traced the buttons on his shirt. “Work’s been a lot, recently.” 

“I figured as much, doll. Ya don’t gotta tell me anything, but I’m always here to listen, yah?” The tip of his thumb caressed your ear. 

Blinking back tears, you looked up at him apologetically, “I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, Frank, it’s just so stupid and I—“

“Hey, hey, it ain’t stupid.” Frank tugged you impossibly closer, brushing tears off your face carefully. “If it bothers ya, it’s not.” 

“You just…” You drew in a ragged breath, the inhale catching on a sob. “You have so much to worry about already, and I don’t want to be a burden!” Bawling now, you felt your chest constricting at the thought of dumping more work onto Frank’s already overflowing to-do list. 

“You’re not a burden.” Frank spoke fiercely, looking deep into your eyes. “You have never been a burden, doll. Never.”

His words were a promise, you drank in his commitment with immense desperation, praying to forces you didn’t believe in that he was being truthful. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Frankie,” Your voice cracked on the admission. “I’m fine at my job, but nobody can see that, and I don’t feel satisfied by the work that I’m doing but it’s all I know! I can’t just quit, I don’t have any other plan, this is everything I’ve worked for and—“ Your ramble broke off into sobs, your breath hitching as Frank shushed you quietly. 

“I know, I know, doll. It sucks right now and I’m so sorry.” Rubbing a hand over your back, Frank encouraged you to breathe, waiting until your lungs could actually take in oxygen before continuing. “Sweetheart, if ya wanna quit, I’ll support ya. If ya wanna stick it out, I’ll support ya. Regardless of what you choose, I’ll be right here at the end of the day.” 

“I can’t quit, Frank, we need the money.” You whimpered. 

“Hey, we can figure it out if we need to. It ain’t a problem.” 

Nodding against his palm, you considered your options. “For now, I’ll stick it out. But, thank you.” 

“No need to thank me, honey. It’s my job to look out for ya, remember?” His sappy remark sparked a tiny smile from you. “You’re my girl, sweetheart. I’m always gonna take care of my girl.” 

Nuzzling into his chest, you stifled a yawn before abruptly looking up at him with wide eyes. “Shit, Frankie, what time is it? Did I miss dinner?” Wriggling out of his embrace, you wiped the lingering tears off your face before sitting up. Frank bit his tongue to keep from chuckling at your genuine concern. 

“Dinner is waiting for us, sweet girl. I’m in no rush.” Cradling your neck, Frank pressed a languid kiss to your lips, taking advantage of your distraction and flipping you on top of him. 

“Frank!” You squealed, beaming down at him with more happiness than he’d seen from you in weeks. 

“What?” He questioned innocently, gently leading your face back to his for another kiss. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You wondered aloud, returning the kiss but looking at him with feigned exasperation. 

“I ain’t allowed to love on you now?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You rolled your eyes, shuffling off of him and out of the bed. “C’mon, you sap. Let’s eat the dinner you made before it’s ruined.” 

As the night sky populated with stars, Frank doted on you insistently. He’d reheated your dinner, turned on your favorite movie, even brought you a pint of your favorite ice cream for dessert. You’d gratefully accepted his comforts, yet he still seemed to be holding back. As he puttered around in the kitchen, doing the dishes alone (he’d staunchly refused your help), you could see the wheels turning in his brain. 

“Frank, is something wrong?” You asked, picking at a stray thread along the seam of the blanket he’d wrapped around your shoulders, gazing over at him as your heart rate pounded anxiously.

“Huh?” Your timid question snapped him out of his thoughts, his hands nearly flinging the soapy dish across the room as he spun towards you. “Oh, uh, no. Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” 

Unconvinced, you nodded, nibbling on a hangnail poking out from your thumb. In an attempt to self-soothe, you shifted your attention back to the tv, but Frank’s energy still seemed out of place. 

Placing the last plate in the dishrack, Frank dried his hands, ambling over to you with a hesitant smile. “I gotta ask ya something, doll.”

Nervousness spiking, you nodded, tilting your head in anticipation of his query.

“If I asked ya to call in sick tomorrow, what would ya say?” Frank’s jaw was tight as he asked, clearly expecting anger in response.

“I’d say absolutely, love. Why do you ask?” “I was hopin’ you’d wanna take an extra day, to escape those assholes and maybe do something fun?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Frank Castle looked nervous. His eyes flirted between your gaze and his lap, his trigger finger twitching. 

“Oh, Frank, I’d love that!” You gushed, throwing your arms around him. He grunted in surprise, his own hands coming up to hold you in place so you didn’t topple off the couch. “I’ve been hesitant to take sick days because everyone’s been so on edge lately, will you sit with me when I call in?” 

“Course I will. If anyone gives ya trouble, they’ll have me to answer to.” Frank assured you with a menacing glint in his eye. Kissing his nose, you stroked a knuckle over his stubbled cheek. 

“Thank you, handsome.” 

“Anything for my girl.” 

True to his word, Frank made sure you were seated comfortably in his lap when you called in sick, both so that he could rub reassuring circles along your waist, and so that he could hook his chin over your shoulder to listen for any flack you might be given. Fortunately for your boss, they grumbled an “ok” and hung up quickly. Anything ruder than that, and they might have been on The Punisher’s shit list. 

Sinking backwards into your boyfriend’s sturdy chest, you shuddered. “Glad that’s over with.” Breathing deeply, you took a moment to collect your anxious self before standing to get ready for the day. Or, trying to stand, at least. 

A set of strong hands caught your hips, yanking them backwards to hold you in Frank’s lap. 

“Frank!” A small fit of giggles burst out of you as his fingers pressed into your ticklish skin. 

“What’s the hurry, doll? We’ve got all day.” Planting heated kisses along your neck, you felt Frank smile when you mewled in response. “Attagirl, let me make ya feel good, hmm?” 

Whisking you back to the bedroom, Frank helped you forget all about your shitty job. 

Slightly breathless following your morning exercise, you hummed happily as Frank continued to press his lips to the exposed flesh of your body, taking care to show every piece of you as much love as possible. Boxing you in with his massive arms, he molded his beautifully crooked nose against yours, finishing his trail of kisses with a lengthy kiss to your lips. 

“So, what did you have planned for today?” You asked against his lips, threading a hand in his hair. 

“Nothin’ much. I was thinkin’ maybe nice coffee and a trip to that museum you’ve been talkin’ about?” A blush crept over his cheeks. “Sorry, doll, I, uh, I ain’t too good with this…” He gestured between the two of you. 

“Aw, Frankie,” You scolded gently, kissing him tenderly. “You’re plenty good at ‘this’.” You mirrored his gesture and he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, honey. You’re the most romantic partner I’ve ever had. And that plan sounds lovely. Let me clean up and we can go for coffee.” 

As you curled into a seated position, Frank caught your wrist. “Hey! Where do you think you’re goin’?” 

“To wash up!” You giggled, striding back over to the bed where he slotted you between his legs. 

“Nah, you’re gonna sit right here while I draw you a bath. And I’m gonna run to the coffee place across the street and get ya one of those sugary drinks ya like so much. Then we can go out, if ya feel up to it.” His demanding tone made you smirk, his military tendencies tended to come out when he was concerned about you. 

“That sounds perfect, love.” You kissed his cheek, sitting on the bed as he headed to the bathroom. 

The rest of the day passed quickly, leaving you longing for more cozy time with Frank. Though he considered himself lacking in the romance department, he’d provided you nothing but pure love on your day off, indulging your every whim just to see you smile. 

And as you fell asleep at the end of the day, you clung tightly to him, trusting him to get you through whatever life threw your way.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #marvel #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #frank castle x female reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle angst #the punisher imagine #the punisher x reader #punisher #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #my writing #fc #leah answers

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hades x AFAB!Reader || Drabble

HELLL YES I'M USING THIS GIF.

Plot: So apparently your hot new God lover is not comfortable with the idea of using his cock on you (Apparently his cum is similar to something called... 🔥hot glue??🔥 Which does NOT sound good for your insides- ), so he improvises.

Warnings: Smut!! And, I hate this word but its the word, so- Dildo use. *sigh* 🤦‍♀️ (This word for me is what moist is for Lily Aldrin in HIMYM) Also monsterfucker themes, small gagging mention, Hades drawing out your orgasm for his own sake. Starts out gentle, gets rough.

Tagging: @disney-android-foundation , @marinerainbow , and @ryantryan6969 . I forgot to tag again! I'm so sorry! But here we go, half an hour later XD I hope you're in a Hades mood!

"Yeah," Hades' smirk is scary, sexy and sharp, looking at the... thing, he's created. "that should do it."

Your eyes are wide, and your cheeks and neck and chest are aflame from the kisses and being propped on the table with your legs parted, feet set on either arm of Hades' throne. Right where he wants you to be, caging him in. "That-... I, uh... Hades... that should do it, for- for... what?"

Its an odd thing, for sure, in his hand. Its cylindrical, thick and long with a soft, rounded tip that's slightly puffier than the rest of it. And at the other end of it theirs a wider, flatter part; A base. And the thick cylinder part is slightly... curved, too. You're not quite sure what you're looking at, though theirs definitely a thought nagging in your minds-eye, so you're just sitting there hot, breathless, exposed and baffled until Hades' takes notice.

When Hades notices your confused eyes, still clouded with the lust he built you up to already but also just... confused, his smirk becomes more devious. No longer can you see his teeth, just lips spread long, high cheekbones, narrowed eyes- and a glint.

"Oh trust me you're gonna love this handy little thing when we're done tonight- I might even let ya keep it, if I'm feeling charitable. A gift; from me to you, babe. Compliments of the house~"

"Its... well- it looks weird."

"This, doll, is an exact replica- of that thing I toldya we're not uh... using, today."

Immediately your face gets hotter, like its caught on fire. THATS what was nagging at you!! That- This thing- its a- its his-

You just called a God's manhood weird-looking. Oh n- Suddenly Hades changes his grip on it, holding the base and moving- disappearing from the throne before your eyes and reappearing again, standing tall before your far littler, mortal form. When the thing kisses your bare and already soaked hole, all thoughts vacate your mind and your hands fly to his toga; gripping the fabric in your fists.

"Trust me, eh? You're gonna love it when I'm done. Would I steer you wrong, babe?"

Dragging your eyes from the thing, up to Hades' eyes, eyes you already feel like you're falling in love with despite the short time you've been spending time together, you give it a think. Would he?

Or- more importantly, do you care? Right now you're absolutely dripping, curling your toes in anticipation of the thing stretching you out (feeling needy just at the feel of it ghosting against your slick skin), clenching Hades' toga in your fists like it'll lesson your achiness at all, and you feel so high on lust you'd do just about anything to be filled. His kisses were like a terrible drug, his tongue hot, thick and skilled teasing yours for what felt like forever, torturing you forever, until he finally attempted to reach his hand up your thigh. You're practically shaking with want. You've never felt it this bad, before. No one's ever turned you into this much an oversensitive mess before just with kissing.

To be fair though you've never been with a God, before.

After a moment you give a nod, desperate to have something fill you- rub against your clit- drag you to the edge by force. Fuck you.

"That's my favourite new plaything~ Okay, now listen,.. " You watch Hades lean down closer to you with glazed-over eyes, until he passes your lips by and you let out a sigh and drop your forehead on his shoulder, as he instead whispers hotly in your ear; "Here's the deal. You come, when I say so. I don't wanna hear any 'Hades I couldn't help it', cuz see I'm not gettin' anything outta this, am I babe?- what am I getting outta this? Nada. We're not even using my actual equipment, here. For your safety. Yah... So you're gonna have to put on a show for me, yeah? So c'mon, gimmie somethin to look back on. Be my personal pornstar."

You're already slipping away into foggy-brain mode, ready to disappear into the feeling of getting fucked, losing yourself in his voice. "Mhmm, o-kay." The smell of smoke is starting to overwhelm you, too, taking over your senses. It fills up your nose when you're this close to him, it warms your body, it leaves a barbecue-like taste on your tongue.

"Gonna haveta hear ya say it, babe. Remind me what's our deal?" The fake-cock presses against your folds, almost-almost breaching the entrance and stretching you and you give a hopeless whine.

"I'll... mm... you're missing out, so- so I'll... "

"Hmmmmm?" Hades decides to be an ass and strokes the thing up an down your folds, making it even harder for you to think. He also presses a simmering kiss to the top of your head to hide his chuckles, the bastard.

"... I'll be a p- pornstar for you... "

"That's right." Theirs a soft kind of pride in his voice that makes yours your insides squeeze, just as he slips the objects head into your pussy; beginning to massage it at a gradual pace in and out, going in deeper and deeper until the whole thing disappears in and out of your little, drippy, stretched entrance. You're gritting your teeth and pressing your forehead hard into his shoulder before you know it, feeling the throws of hot, throbbing pleasure building in you already.

While you're moaning and taking the fake cock in, the curve stretching you open and grinding perfectly against your sensitive clit (just enough to feel good but not enough to help you over the edge), Hades glides the long sharp fingers on his free hand along your thigh down to your knee- then pushes it back gently so your legs are open wider. It somehow maximises the feeling in you and you cant help the way your walls twitch around the thick, slimy instrument. How your hips roll towards it. "Hades! Hades hades hades- please please- "

"Good work, doll!, keep begging and you might just get watcha want outta me~ Maybe." His pumps get ever-so-slightly faster, filling you up more insistently, causing the sloppy suctioning sound of your tight wet cunt to get embarrassingly loud in the big empty room- making him smirk. "Sweetheart trust me you look good there... gonna be hard to talk shop here later on, if ya catch my drift. Eh?~ "

The thought of Hades communing with other gods, or the fates, or just Pain and Panic with his hand under the table pumping his leaky throbbing cock because of you flickers through your brain and makes you squeeze the toy inside you. "Hades! Hades! I- I c- I need- Please please, right there right there! I need y- ahhh," You want to reach down and touch yourself desperately, help yourself selfishly to an explosive climax around this perfect hard toy, but you behave yourself. You bite your lip and fight the urge, wanting to please him. "Faster please!! F- Faster, harder, in m- Ahh!"

Letting out a frustrated, orgasm-mad whine as the toy just continues to drive continuously into you at a moderate pace, only stimulating you enough to make you crazy with want, you decide to play with him some. Stretching slowly, you lean up to graze your lips against the heated skin of his neck. Then your tongue (The tip, then the full flatness, and then you give gentle suck~ Reminding him what you could be doing to him down there. Torturing him as bad as he's tortured you), and as your hands glide down his warm clothed chest, Hades grunts; frustrated himself as your mischievous fingers near his actual cock. "Babe, you know you're playing with fire he- "

Even through his toga, you can feel his length burning up and painfully hard. Gently stroking it, your relax down from his neck as you just weakly take the pounding in your core; delicately playing with his cock meanwhile. Sliding your hand up and down the hidden body part, which may be even thicker then the toy actually, making him twitch.

You almost lose yourself in this, the slow, torturous pleasure and the feeling of Hades' cock under your fingers. After a few moments of this, you notice the fake one shoving into you rougher, making the pressure inside you start to build up slowly so you look up at him; Eyes widening at the look on his face immediately.

With a pent-up frustrated frown at you, Hades starts to ram the damn thing into your hot, puffy walls; ripping you apart and abusing your little clit without a seconds notice. The fire on top of his head flashes orange and you know you did it. "Fine Y/N- you wanna act like a whore, okay. Trust me, I can treat you like a bitch if you want to be."

Your orgasm builds faster then before, the thick curved thing pounding into your pussy again and again at a filthy inhuman speed, fucking you hard and so rough your mouth hangs open obscenely as you press your forehead once again into Hades shoulder- hard. The heel of his hand brushes your skin every time he thrusts the toy inside your meaty walls and its a little detail that reminds you its him. Its not a soulless fucking machine. Its him. You stretch your thighs open wider to increase the feeling, unable to do much other then that but take the fucking- its just how you wanted, its better, its yanking your climax out of you desperately and selfishly.

When you're so so close, Hades makes you stretch your head backwards on your neck and kisses you again; making you gag on his long inhuman tongue for working him up like you did. You let out a strangled moan, shocked that it feels good having your ability to breath stolen from you in such a vulgar way, and stretch upwards towards him, trailing your tongue languidly against his in responce.

When he finally forces an orgasm out of you you're left twitching and shaking against Hades' chest.

"Thereee you go, that was my personal pornstar. Could use some work learning not to ever, mess with me- but for a first go I think that was pretty great. Full marks." Hades chuckles, nudging your chin upwards again - gentle this time, - to look at him. Theirs that devious smirk and those mischievous yellow eyes, looking at you like you're a tasty treat. "Now how about a smile? Maybe a 'thanks. lord of the dead, I feel fucking amazing'?"

With a tired sigh and a spent grin that turns slightly cheeky, you nod okay. "Thank you, oh lord. You did pretty good, too."

Hades' face looks thoroughly unamused at your smartass responce but in the moment with your pussy still throbbing you think its the cutest expression, ever. Then he releases your face and shrugs, an indifferent look on his face now. "Eh, well, I guess you don't want the bath I was gonna draw for ya-- fit for a god, with uh, you know, ambrosia, and stuff. Oh well, see ya next time toots- "

Oh that sounds good, damn. You look after him with sad wide eyes and frown, softly. "... a bath?" Your sweet, tired, fucked-out voice draws him right back in and his voice is gentle on his next words.

"Its in progress, sweetheart."

With that and a happy hum from you, Hades seals his lips to yours for another long, languid kiss while the bath is drawn for you.

#Disney Hades x Reader Drabble #Hades x Reader Drabble #Disney Hades #Hades #Disney Hades x Reader #Hades x Reader #Smut #Drabble #Disney Villains #Disney Villains x Reader

[bellysoupset]

Okay, so, two things:

One, does Leo ever get jealous or upset when he sees kids with loving and caring parents?

Two, maybe a fic where Leo hasn’t been feeling well all day and on his way home he sees a super sweet family with a dad and a cute giggly son, and for some reason his feverish brain combined with the sweetness sends him into a depression episode. And then he goes home and takes Benadryl for his fever and his anti depressants as well, and basically over-sedates himself, and Jon gets home later to find Leo almost completely out of it and he freaks out.

I know you’re doing the mini saga rn, but I was thinking maybe you could do this after?

Sorry if this request is too long!!!😭😭!!😭

I'm sorry it took forever to write this!! This poor fic has been in my drafts for too long, I'm so sorry!

----------------

Leo knew he was not supposed to covet things that weren't his. That had been a maxim of his father and during most days Leo still agreed to it, all trauma aside.

Except during the holidays. He wasn't sure what was it about the end of the year that brought up the ugliest parts of him. Maybe it was all the fake glee or the longer nights and shorter days or the fact he wasn't practicing nearly as much sports or the fact that consumerism was off the charts and even though he could afford things now, he didn't think he'd ever get rid of that feeling in the pit of his stomach when standing in a cashier line. Maybe it was all that put together.

Or maybe it was the drilling about Holiday Spirit. In his house that had meant discounted alcoholic eggnog and much screaming, his father calling him a "little elf", school being out for recess so him being stuck in a house with no heat and an incredibly pissed off man, who was drunk off his ass.

For everyone else, though, holiday spirit meant being more kind or loving or charitable. Right. Leo rolled his eyes as he watched his coworker boast about the charity he was helping at the end of the year.

There was also the fact that the "philanthropy works" that his colleagues liked to gloated about were more often than not directed at people who were just Leo, except seven years ago.

He pressed on his keyboard with a little more force, rubbing at his temples. He had a headache from all the smells permeating the office — Sandras' peppermint candle, Chuck's cinnamon rolls he had brought for everyone else, Dean's fucking overpowering cologne his girlfriend had gifted him — and the loud noise wasn't making his life any better.

Leo sighed, squinting at his screen. Normally he could do his job in his sleep. Research had always been his forte, even back in high school, and he knew he aced it, because his boss always planted him as the paralegal for the big clients, where the lawyer would need a lot of research help in a short period of time.

Today he was struggling to put two and two together, let alone figure out if there were any similar cases that could serve as their defense. His stomach grumbled and Leo decided he needed a break from Sandra and Dean's incessant bickering, getting up and going to the coffee machine.

"Hey Wagner," Chuck opened a little smile, "what's with the sour face?"

"Headache," Leo answered truthfully, grabbing the biggest paper cup and starting the coffee machine. Damn, he really needed one of these back at home, "it's fine, there's just forty minutes more."

"That sucks man, feel better," Chuck said, but didn't move, "do you have any plans for the holiday break?"

"That's only next month," Leo wrinkled his nose in distaste. Could people stop pre-gaming for December in the middle of fucking November? Halloween had just happened-

"Well, there's thanksgiving," Chuck shrugged, "in less than two weeks."

"Oh," Leo sighed, having completely forgotten thanksgiving. He didn't think he had ever celebrated that.

"Are you going back home?"

Ha!

Leo nearly snorted in his coffee cup, instead changing it halfway so it looked like he was just blowing off the steam, "no, there's n- No. It's just me and Jon, so I'll probably do whatever his plans are."

Which Leo didn't think he had any... Jonah's plans lately were solely eat, sleep, study, hand in his final works for graduation, work. Rinse repeat.

"Hope you guys have fun," Chuck smiled brightly, before side stepping him and walking back to his desk, "get a turkey or something."

"Or something," Leo grumbled, squeezing his eyes and shuddering violently. He was also freezing. He blamed that on Sandra, who just had to wear the fancy coat she got in the designer sale at Nordstrom, so the a/c was at stupidly low levels, for sure.

Even though he had said it was just forty minutes more, they dragged. By the time Leo managed to get out of the office, his headache had escalated significantly and his stomach was hurting, since all he had eaten all day was a pastry at lunch and copious amounts of coffee. He was freezing to the point of his teeth chattering and he it was only when he stepped out of the elevator, buttoning up his coat, that he realized most people didn't seem to be feeling that chilly.

Sandra poked his side, "Wagner, you mind?"

He had stopped right at the ID scan, so he quickly apologized, jumping to the side as she scanned her card and then looked over her shoulder at him, "are you alright?"

"What?" Leo squinted at her, the lights reflecting off her blonde hair.

"Are you feeling alright?" Sandra repeated, "you're quieter than usual, that's all."

"Yeah, uhm..." He shrugged, running his own ID over the scan and joining her as they walked to the parking lot, "I'm fine, I'm just freez-" he shut up, stunned into silence when his co-worker lightly touched his forehead, getting on her tiptoes to reach him.

"You're running a fever there, Wagner," she rolled her eyes, clicking her car keys, "are you alright to drive?"

"Yeah, of course!" His voice came out squeaky at the sudden display of care and Sandra shrugged, smiling at him.

"Alright, take care," she waved, moving away to her designated spot and Leo was left a little stunned into silence, before collecting himself and getting in his own car. He really needed to stop being stubborn and let Bella fix his radio like she had offered, because there was just a terrible silence the entire drive home.

Leo stopped at a red light, just a street away from home and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Now that Sandra had pointed it out, he couldn't deny the fever. Everything hurt, the sound of the wind howling outside hurt, his head was pounding, the kid's squealing as they walked ahead of their parents on the street...

He watched as a little boy ran back to his father, in a ridiculously large coat. The kid barely reached his dad's hip, he couldn't be over four years old. He was blabbing, cheeks all red and Leo watched the dad let out a chuckle and grab the lapels of his son's coat, covering his face in kisses.

Someone honked behind him and Leo jumped, startled. He had missed the green light.

The remaining 5 minutes to his house, were dark five minutes. Not only because the clouds clumped together to start spilling snow, but because his thoughts started to run down a dangerous road.

This was what he hated the most about the holidays. How his dark thoughts creeped up on him with such ease, how much emphasis was there on family and love and how it highlighted that he was painfully alone in this world. There was no place to go for thanksgiving and there was no father to smooch his face and comfort him and none of the garbage that every single TV ad was showing now.

He avoided the first floor, not in the mood to force a smile for Matthew, and once he got home, Leo went straight to the bedroom, stripping out of his tux jacket and kicking off the shoes.

JD meowed, pushing the door ajar as she entered the room, climbing the bed and forcing herself on his lap even when he paid her no mind. He was too busy trying to undo his tie with one hand, the other one running through the mess of meds they kept in the bedside table drawer.

Vaguely Leo was aware that Jonah kept more meds in the first aid kit, but he couldn't remember where it was and his head was throbbing too much and he felt like fucking crying, so he decided not to go looking. They were out of paracetamol, but still had benadryl and Leo swallowed the little pink pill dry, before opening the drawer right under that one, where he kept his own stuff.

He always took his meds in the morning and then two before bed, but even thought it was only six PM, Leo decided to just taken them already. He wanted to sleep for fifty years, maybe sleep and just... Just stop existing all together.

Leo rubbed his face at the thought, letting out a groan, and his cat let out a meow, forcing her head in the space between his arms.

"Hey," he sighed, scratching her behind the ears, "hey, sweetheart, it's okay. I'm fine. I'm not doing that..." he reassured JD, pulling on the blankets so he could crawl under them. Jonah had left the heater on, but the apartment was still freezing.

JD meowed, chewing on his now undone tie and Leo wrapped an arm around her, thinking that maybe he should get out of the office clothes.... Then fell asleep.

---------------

Jonah wasn't a festivities type of man. He had never been, not even back when he was a teenager and he definitely wasn't the type now, when he was so stressed about graduation.

Yet, he knew Leo was acting pouty for the past ten days and his bet was that it was related to the holiday season. It was very unlike Leo to not openly complain about what was upsetting him, unless it was something close to his heart, when he closed off like a clam.

So if Leo wanted Holidays, Jonah was going to give him Holidays. Hopefully with a better outcome than Halloween, Jon cringed at the thought.

"What is this?" Jon asked, as Wendy reached inside her car and pushed a big tupperware in his hand.

"Torrone," she said, fishing one of the little white squares, "it's an Italian candy, traditional around Christmas. Vin's mom sells them, but she made a huge first batch and sent him. Here's some for you and Leo."

"But Ma made them for Vince..."

"Vince has half my fridge filled with these," Wendy rolled her eyes, getting in the driver's seat of her car, "just remember to get a picture of Leo eating it so we can send it to ma."

"Alright Dee, bye," Jon sniffed one the little white bars, before turning around to get in his own car. That had been the start of his Christmas mini spree and the reason why he was going up to their apartment now carrying not just the tupperware, but a bunch of little boxes of fairy lights, a wreath and a bag of groceries to make a black forest cake.

Jon wasn't daft, he knew Leo was being terribly considerate with the fact he had all but put their whole relationship in the backburner so he could focus in the school work. He needed to woo the guy a little bit.

"Leo?" Jonah pushed the door open, before crouching down to grab all the items again, "Leo, I got a bunch of shit I think you'll like..." he thought nothing of it when there wasn't an answer, instead starting to put things away. He found a good jar for Ma's little torrones and checked on JD's food bowl, frowning as he realized Leo hadn't fed her yet.

"Leo, did you feed JD? Her bowl is empty..." he said, but still got no answer. Jonah didn't wait for one, shaking the little empty dish until he heard their cat trotting back to the kitchen, then filling it up. She snaked between his legs, purring as Jon scratched her behind the ear and watched her eat for a little bit.

Only then did he frown at Leo's full absence, walking back to their room. Jonah wasn't sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't his boyfriend buried under all their blankets, heavily asleep. He checked his watch. Eight o'clock.

"That's early," Jonah whispered, moving closer to get a good look at his face, "Leo?"

There was no answer, not a snore, nothing. Leo's blonde hair was peaking out and so was the top half of his face, but that was it.

Jon sighed, a little bummed he was already asleep, but deciding against waking him, tiptoeing back out of the room. JD was still in the kitchen, happily munching on her treat and Jonah crouched down next to her again, "why did Leo go to bed so early, do you know?" he asked, causing the cat to stop eating for a second, before she went back in.

He put away all the groceries, then went through the fridge. They meal prepped and Jonah frowned as he realized there were exactly as many frozen dishes as there had been when he left the house earlier that day.

Happy that he had found an excuse to wake Leo up, Jonah got two containers out and put them to defrost, while walking back to the room. Leo hadn't moved a muscle and he didn't stir even when Jon sat on his side of the bed, brushing his bangs.

"Leo..." he whispered, shaking him lightly, "baby wak-" Jonah interrupted himself, noticing Leo was still wearing his office clothes. That was very unusual... So was the low heat rolling off of him.

"Goddammit Leo," Jon sighed, touching his face and feeling the low grade fever. He shook him a little harder, "Leo, wake up. You gotta eat something..."

Still nothing. By now, normally, the blonde would be blinking awake.

Jonah frowned, pushing the blankets down and shaking him a little more, "Leo, wake up..." his voice raised at the end as alarm bells started to go through his mind, so he all but rattled the other man, finally causing Leo to open his eyes.

Jon was about to let out a relieved sigh, but he didn't have the chance, as Leo slurred something unintelligible and then passed right back asleep.

Jonah rattled him again, harshly, and this time he got no reaction, not even a whine.

"Leo!" he called, leaning in so he could feel his boyfriend's breathing, planting two fingers to his jugular in search of a pulse. His own heart was drumming in his ears, so it took Jonah a second before he could differentiate what was his, what was Leo's.

The blonde's heartbeat were slow...Too slow. His breathing was weirdly timed.

Jonah felt vaguely dizzy as he looked around the room, in search of his coat. He had left his cellphone inside the pocket... He almost got sick as he saw the three different medications sitting on Leo's bedside table.

His usual Zoloft and Ambien and... Benadryl?

Jon frowned at the label, before shaking the antidepressant case and ambien. Both were still full, Leo hadn't taken more than he should... Or at least, it didn't look like he had, not on purpose.

"Baby," Jonah patted his cheeks, with more force than he'd normally use, "baby, open your eyes for me. Wake up-" he bit the inside of his cheek, before deciding that fuck that and splashing a little bit of water on his boyfriend's face.

Leo blinked, confused and drowsy, "why am I wet..." he groaned, attempting to go back to sleep, but Jonah stopped him, patting his cheek again.

"Leo, hey, look at me- How many pills did you take?"

"Uhm?" he yawned, his eyes starting to roll back again.

"LEO!" Jonah shook him vehemently, forcing the blonde to wake up, "how. many. pills?"

Leo groaned, rubbing his eyes, "Jon...?"

"Yes, baby, it's me," Jonah shook him again, holding the pill bottles in front of his face, "how many pills?"

"One," Leo slumped back against the pillow, "just one."

"Each?"

The blonde nodded, yawning again, "I don't feel so good..."

"I know, baby," Jon grabbed his shoulders again, forcing him to sit up once more, "c'mon, we're going to the ER."

"What...?" Leo groaned, slumping forward so his forehead met Jon's shoulder, "no, I'm not sick, I'm just... I'm just off..."

"Yeah, because you took two sedatives and your antidepressants," Jonah scoffed, looking one of Leo's arms around his neck, "c'mon, baby, get up."

"Jon, no, stop-" Leo weakly tried to shove off his chest, but his legs were almost jelly under him and the only thing keeping him up was Jonah holding him tightly, "I wanna sleep..."

"Nope," Jon dragged him out of the room, "no sleep for you until a psychiatrist checks you out."

"No!" Leo shoved at his arm and then stumbled back, falling sit on the edge of the bed. Jonah glared at him, feeling his own temper flare up, fueled by the sheer stress.

The stress of the situation, the panic of finding Leo like that, but also the overall stress that had been Halloween, followed by Leo's appendicitis, followed his quickly approaching deadlines...

"You're getting in the car even if I have to fucking carry you, Leo," Jonah glared at him, "get up."

If he expected to get a rise out of the blonde, he didn't. Instead Leo planted a hand on his chest and fell back on the bed, facing the ceiling as he groaned, "Jon, I feel really weird..."

"Yes, get up-"

"No, there's... There's someone standing in our hallway," Leo said and Jonah glanced at the open door and saw nothing, not even JD.

"There isn't, baby, its in your head..." he grabbed his boyfriend's arm, pulling him up again, "c'mon-"

"No, they're gonna get me."

"Ah fuck's sake," Jonah sighed, although while this was scary, he much rather have Leo fighting him and responsive than dead to the world, "no one is going to get you, Leo..."

All he got as an answer was a whimper.

"Fuck," Jon whispered, leaving the room in two steps to grab the coat he had hung behind the door and his phone, already dialing 911.

They asked him how many pills Leo had taken and upon Jonah's answer, a lady said "It doesn't sound like a suicide attempt, we're going to transfer you to poison control. Please stay on the line and stay calm."

A suicide attempt. Jonah's mouth dried as he sat right next to Leo on the bed, wrapping a hand around his wrist and feeling his pulse, barely listening as the poison control responder said that at this dosage going to the ER wasn't necessary. To keep checking on him and get loads of liquids on Leo, take him to emergency if he started throwing up or struggling to breathe.

Jon's ears were still ringing as he crouched down next to Leo again, now holding a glass of cold water, with a straw sticking out.

"C'mon, baby, just one sip, it's gonna help..."

Leo groaned again, but after a little more prodding, he did open his mouth and took the drink. Apparently he had been thirsty, because he drained the entire cup without much of Jonah's prodding.

He pulled back, looking slightly more awake, "Jon..." Leo clumsily grabbed his face, "something's wrong."

"I know, Leo," Jonah pulled back from the clumsy face squeeze, planting a kiss on the blonde's brow, "you'll feel better in the morning... Well, probably hungover as fuck, but you'll feel better in the morning..." his voice caught at the end and Leo pulled back, frowning.

"Are you sad...?"

"No, I'm fine, I'm fine," Jonah cleared his throat, "why did you take the benadryl?"

"What?" Leo blinked, struggling to keep his eyes open, "get into bed..."

"The third medication, Leo," Jonah raised the little box in front of his eyes, "why did you take it?"

"My head hurt..." Leo yawned, "had a fever... Couldn't find the right-" he yawned again, tugging on Jon's shirt to pull him closer, "the right one."

Jonah let out a little sigh of relief, allowing himself to get pulled into a clumsy, weird hug, the best that Leo's half sedated brain could do.

"I love you," he whispered, voice muffled by Leo's shirt and the blonde let out a hum, sounding like he was falling right back asleep. Still, Jonah did hear a faint, "love you too" said in return.

#leo wagner #mywriting #sedation #too much medication #light angst #sickfic

[wandaxpietro]

another ask because this is the only way I know how to contribute to the Maxicest/ScarletSilver fandom (wish i could do more but college is p a i n )

but imagine if Pietro and Wanda just came out and told everyone they're dating/in love (whether as a joke or if they're being serious or idk) I am willing to bet a majority of their friends/coworkers/acquaintances/enemies would either be like: "we knew lol" or "you haven't already???" or be supportive or neutral to their relationship.

But I'm wondering... how would Magneto react? How would Lorna react? How would Magda/Marya/Natalya and Django react? (if they were alive to see it) How would Vision or Crystal react?

Hell, how would Billy and Tommy react? And Luna too? (marvel pls bring her back :((( plsss)

i feel like in the current SW&QS comic run, there will probably be some in-universe comment/rumors that since are Pietro and Wanda are together again, that they are together.

(might ask more questions/thoughts/random blurbs later ://)

ah i think you're more charitable than i am... i don't think most people who know them would be okay with it. they all probably know to varying degrees -- especially their close friends -- it's the deniability that saves it for them, that makes them able to ignore all of it. the avengers (the ones that are close to them, that is) all know, all have seen the twins in weird situations, but they've gotten very very good at looking away. none of them want to know. i think they'd be highly uncomfortable if they came out with their relationship officially, because that'd mean they can no longer ignore it, y'know? i don't think most would start a fight about it or a confrontation or anything, but they'd get weird around the twins.

(on a side note, i think clint is one of the people who'd get actually angry for a while lol. that moment when you're bisexual and your two crushes are dating etc etc. also i think carol would ask wanda if she's alright, if pietro's forcing her into anything, which would make wanda really mad. janet i think is smart enough that she's realized for a long time they're in love & knows something like that isn't going on but she wouldn't be very comfortable, either. the one i think who's most likely to "accept" it is actually tony bcuz i think he genuinely wouldn't give a fuck lol)

that aside! now for the ones you actually asked about lol. ah it's difficult.

magneto - depends on when he'd find out. during brotherhood times, i don't think he'd care, because he didn't really care about them to begin with. once he finds out they're related, at the very beginning, i think he'd be appalled but there isn't anything he can do about it, since he's an absent father trying to reconnect and has no rights to his children. once they're in the family dance for a while, he's grown a bit demanding, esp towards pietro, if that makes sense? so i think he'd probably argue with them about it lol. i don't think he'd like it, not so much bcuz of personal disgust, but mostly bcuz of optics. but also bcuz he has a desire for his children to live normal, happy lives (as much as he has trouble showing them that normally lol) and i think he'd think that would interfere with that. he's also very good at ignoring it, however -- before he'd officially find out, ofc, but after, too. he just conveniently "forgets" it. maybe starts introducing both of them to other people. they hate it.

lorna - i think lorna knows. i think she's known for a long time and while she was disgusted by it at first (and also strangely jealous; she doesn't want either of them but they've always been so close and she never had that. she doesn't have a sibling that's primarily hers, if that makes sense) i think she came to terms with it over time, enough so that she'd be pretty alright with it if they went official.

i honestly don't know about magda, django, marya and natalya... i think magda would have a lot of compassion after everything they've been through, but would treat it as an unfortunate side-effect of all of the twins' trauma, if that makes sense? she loves them a lot, though. the rest of them i don't know. i can't see any of them liking it, but marya and django might just be happy they're both alive and happy, you know? i feel like natalya would want more for them, similarly to magneto, bcuz she doesn't quite get it. but no one does. so yknow.

so billy and tommy are their kids. we know this. i think tommy wouldn't care, tbh. i can't see him being fazed or disgusted by it, also i think he'd be happy to find out pietro is his dad. they already get along, and he doesn't have a lot of people who care about him, and who want to spend time with him (vision never did lol). idk about billy..... i think he dearly loves them both but i think he might just think wanda could do better (lol). i think he'd be vaguely uncomfortable, but pietro would never play dad if billy didn't want that, so i think they're fine-ish? he'd probably get used to it eventually even when he's not thrilled. idk if he'd ever see pietro as his dad. also i think he's also known for a long time but he hasn't gotten over it like lorna has.

as for luna....... honestly she's genuinely a weird kid. she can see people's emotions & i can't see her caring much about "human" taboos. she's from a royal family, and her aunt's husband is also her aunt's (distant) cousin. i think she'd be fine, lol. she can see the love between wanda & pietro -- and tho she probably didn't realize (or didn't want to; bcuz that'd make things complicated) that it was romantic, too, she'd be relatively fine, just happy that her father's happy. she's long since been over crystal and pietro's marriage, so that doesn't bother her, either.

#i'm sorry if this feels like a pessimistic view lol #but i genuinely can't see most of the people surrounding them as actually fully supportive #also i think wanda & pietro wouldn't ever officially come out as a couple. it's been a secret for a long time #and at some point it's not really a secret anymore -- w and p don't treat it as one anymore either -- but no one talks about it #it's like an open secret. people who want to can safely ignore it most of the time #but then they'll catch a clandestine moment and be reminded. lol. #anyway! #answered #i should probably start tagging these asks #scarletsilver #maxicest

[hainethehero]

Stucky headcanon of Steve & Bucky meeting in the 21st century...

(Bucky's POV)

"Wait- they're sending who-?"

Natasha sighs over the line, probably pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration at his antics. But Bucky could honestly care less. Because he wasn't feeling too charitable based on the news he'd just received.

"Look, SHIELD wants him, and he's a cool guy once you get to know him," Natasha tries.

"I don't care what SHIELD wants. They know I work alone!" Bucky spits, "I don't need some military mascot trailing after me and my team!"

"He's not a mascot, Barnes. Steve's a cool guy-"

"I don't care, Natalia."

"Look, you can be as pissy as you want, it's not gonna change anything. Fury's already gotten his file and he's probably being debriefed right now."

"The fuck he is," Bucky growls, cutting her off and stomping his way to the elevators. He jabs the button to Fury's floor, leaning against the glass wall with his arms crossed. His nose twitches, several sweet but not overpowering scents filling his senses. It's a soft, floral note that confounds the fuck out of him because none of the agents he works with smell like that.

It's all manly and clean with woody musks.

"Thirty-sixth floor. Fury, Nicholas J." the elevator announces, as if Bucky needed any introduction. He steps out onto the floor and frowns at the scent that seemingly grows stronger the closer he gets to Fury's main office.

He hears the man's voice and slows his stomp to an even pace, trying to make out the figure seated with his back turned to the outside. Fury is leaning against his desk, a finger pointing at something in the file the other man is holding.

"The mission is simple, get in, get out, minimum casualties."

That's Bucky's cue. "Thought this was a one-man job."

The blonde man sitting suddenly rises to his feet, an air of mystery around him and politely offers his hand.

"Hello, I'm Steve."

Bucky narrows his eyes at him, taking in his face which looks so perfect it's almost porcelaine. And his lips are the brightest shade of baby pink the assassin's ever seen. Not to mention how soft his hand looks as it awaits his own. Bucky subconsciously flexes his metal fist, glad it's still hidden under a glove. He does his best to show his utter disregard for the man, guessing he was probably used to being in the spotlight all the time.

"I work better alone. You know that."

Out the corner of his eyes, he can see the man quickly retrieve his stupid hand, sitting back down quietly as if he'd been dismissed.

Well, he had.

But the redness on his cheeks made his embarrassment clear. Barnes felt a little satisfaction in knocking down Captain America a peg or two.

"Well, Captain Rogers has been added to the scheme. He is at your disposal. And when I say disposal, I mean he's the reason why the mission is minimum-casualty- coded."

Bucky glares at Steve again, irritated at the fact that SHIELD thought it'd be a good idea to toss some random into his team, less than two weeks before their mission. He didn't like to be undermined. And this felt exactly like that.

"I don't need help-"

"These orders come from the top, so there's really nothing I can do, Barnes." Fury sighs. "Now, quit pestering me and help your newest teammate get acquainted with mission training. Goodbye."

Bucky rolls his eyes and stalks out of the room, stopping only briefly to address Rogers.

"You comin' or what, Spangles?"

Steve's face was a mirror of discomfort as both men step into the elevator. Bucky jabs the button to the training rooms and leans against the wall, arms folded again. He sniffs discreetly and realizes that the soft, floral scent hadn't left his nose at all. In fact, it had gotten stronger now that he thought about it. He sideglanced Rogers and realized with much surprise that it was him.

Some wretched part of him wanted to call Steve a grandma for smelling like that but even he had to admit, the scent was oddly beautiful and a welcome change to the usual stink of SHIELD and its hypermasculine environs. He takes in Steve's civilian fit and probably for the first time that day, let intrigue win.

As a science and history buff, it was pretty incredible to see a man who'd been plucked straight out of the forties. His sense of style was reflective of that. Soft khakis and a simple white t-shirt under a black leather jacket. His hair was neatly combed and styled in that church boy fashion, with some strands curling down about his forehead. Yeah, Captain America was the perfect polished soldier, if he'd ever seen one.

But Bucky was too annoyed to be inquisitive at the moment. Maybe he was overreacting and overly pissy with the new recruit. That didn't mean he couldn't appreciate how good-looking the guy really was. He was a total doll face, what with the blue eyes and long camel lashes and the pouty pink lips. In some other circumstance, he imagined he'd be asking Steve if he could order him a drink. He could see himself sitting at a bar, talking shit with Rogers all night. Though, he didn't think the great Captain America even frequented bars.

When the elevator announces their level, he steps off and quickly realizes he's not being followed. He turns and asks Steve again if he's coming, and pauses in his tracks.

He recognizes the look of pure disassociation on the man's face almost immediately. Blue eyes were shadowed by a deep frown and blank stare. His brows were set in a confused frown and he seemed to be holding his body tightly, as if he'd fall apart if he didn't.

Then, as quickly as Bucky noticed it, it quickly melts away. Rogers nods awkwardly and follows him to the training room.

"Holy shit."

Bucky watches as Rumlow approaches all sweaty and gleaming. He notices the way Steve's face lights up when he recognizes the man and his skin prickles a little. He chalks it up to Brock's natural tendency to raise his hackles.

"Rumlow," Rogers greets and it's bordering on robotic.

"Rogers, didn't expect them to bring you in already."

Bucky frowns at Brock. "You knew about this?"

"Heard a rumour a couple weeks ago, didn't think of it til now."

The team approach them and Bucky notes how Steve takes a little step back, probably feeling cornered or something. He imagines the dude's got mad stories to tell about the war. With passing interest, he wonders what kind of dreams the Captain has.

"Captain, this is my STRIKE team. I'm assuming you've met Rumlow, my second in command. After him, Rollins. Wilson is one of our newest recruits but we've worked with him before. He's pararescue. And our specialists, Lopez and Murdock."

Steve smiles and signs a greeting at Lopez when he realizes that she's deaf and- what the fuck, why was that so adorable? Bucky narrows his eyes, trying desperately to feign nonchalance when, in fact, he wanted to coo like he usually did when Alpine did some cute shit.

Then Steve's eyes meet his and his smile disappears as quickly as it came. He tries not to take it personally, after all, he had been a total bitch to the guy. But, whatever. Captain America was sort of adorable. So what?

He clears his throat and addresses the team, "We have roughly two weeks to prepare for this retrieval. And now, thanks to Fury, we also have to bring Spangles into the loop. Let's get to work."

He watches as Steve heads on over to the punching bags with Rumlow. He wasn't in the proper gear to train so Bucky assumed he was asking Rumlow for a quick run-down of their training schedule. He tries not to feel offended that Rogers had gone to his second in command, rather than him, the team leader.

#steve rogers #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky headcanon #marvel #mcu #steve rogers is a bottom #bottom steve rogers #sub steve rogers #pretty steve rogers

[scoops-stevie-archive]

If you’re still taking requests, can I ask for 8. sweater weather and either romantic steddie Or platonic stobin?

i wasn't expecting this thing to grow legs and run as far as it did. i'm sure i lost the original plot somewhere along the way. but i hope you like it! takes place after the events of spring break and is a companion piece to this. also now on ao3

Robin will admit she's a bit of a clothes thief. 80% of her closet now consists of every article of clothing she'd ever stolen from Steve's wardrobe.

Though, stealing is a strong word, she thinks. They're more like hand-me-downs, or "a charitable donation to the less fortunate, Steve. I won't get mad if you write it off your taxes, pinky promise."

Most of the clothes Steve doesn't even realize are gone until Robin wears it to work or a movie night. Just gives her a once over, an appreciative nod, and a "looks nice, Rob. Better on you than me." Which.

Okay.

They're platonic soulmates. Best friends. Twin flames, even. Everybody knows this. They've both come out to the party and Steve is with Eddie exclusively now, so there's no romantic feelings between them whatsoever— excluding the brief moment of one sided attraction on Steve's end.

But.

Steve is still Steve.

He's still Steve Harrington.

His natural state is casual flirting even if he doesn't mean anything by it and Robin is 100% a hot blooded lesbian, but his easy compliments still manage to make her tummy flutter and her cheeks pink as she fights the smile trying to worm its way onto her face. The giggle (a fucking giggle) that bubbles from her throat is no help, either.

She chalks it up to never receiving a lot of compliments from people in her formative years.

Now that Steve's dating Eddie, though, their closets look like they've exploded together in a clash of brights and darks, leather and chains meeting polos and denim. Eddie would never spend his hard earned drug earnings on school spirit attire, but sometimes he'll be lounging around the trailer in some Hawkins High sports shirt. Steve wears Eddie's band shirts more often than not because of how comfy they are (he does this on purpose.)

So now when Robin raids Steve's closet, she gets Eddie's clothes too, which is what gets her into the current situation:

She doesn't even think about what she puts on that morning before rushing out the door so Steve will stop honking the fucking horn. It's 6:30am and she has elderly neighbors who need their beauty sleep, for Christ's sake.

(Mr. Cochran currently mowing his yard across the street doesn't share the same sentiments.)

She can tell something's wrong by the whispers that follow her down the hallway as she walks to her locker. She ignores it, though, chalks it up to another rumor about her and Steve making the rounds again.

It's not until lunch that the reason becomes apparent.

She sits beside Nancy at the Hellfire table. The boys aren't there yet so it gives them a chance to catch up and gossip a little, something Robin never thought she'd be interested in before becoming friends with Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler and learning that little miss reporter has stories on almost everyone of their classmates.

They're in the middle of Nancy telling her how Becky was caught in a janitor's closet making out with someone not her boyfriend, when—

"That my jacket, Buckley?"

Eddie's voice is suddenly right in her ear and he materializes out of nowhere, dragging a chair to the head of the table and turning it around to sit on it backwards. The guys follow suit and sit in their own chairs, flanking Eddie's left and right.

Robin frowns and lifts the collar like she's expecting to see Eddie's name stitched on the inside. "Uh, no? I think I'd notice if it were, Munson."

Eddie laughs as he pulls out his lunch that he won't admit Steve made for him. "I do think it is, little birdie."

Robin bristles a bit at the nickname. Eddie jerks his chin.

"Take a look at the back."

Robin glances around the table before hesitantly shrugging the jacket off. She balks at the very obvious image of the signature Hellfire Club devil, painted against a wall of white on the black denim.

"What the hell was this doing in Steve's closet?"

Eddie chokes on his sandwich.

Nancy's perfect eyebrows pull together. "Why were you looking through his closet?"

"Stealing his clothes, obviously."

"Why do you steal his clothes?" Gareth asks.

Robin throws her head back and groans. "I always take his clothes, haven't you noticed almost every shirt I wear is his? We're getting off topic, why did Steve put this in his closet?" She throws an accusing look at Eddie who shrugs.

"Why are you acting like my clothes being in my boyfriend's closet is some big conspiracy?" he shoots back.

Robin narrows her eyes. They stare each other down for a few seconds. She can hear that little whistle from all the western movies and she glares at Jeff to knock it off. Eventually, Robin concedes.

"Touché, Munson. Just don't be surprised when I start wearing your clothes, too. If it's in his closet it's fair game."

Eddie tilts his head in a bow. "As you wish, Lady Buckley."

She doesn't give the jacket back. Isn't sure if she wants to and Eddie doesn't mention even wanting it back. So she keeps it. Admires the little stitches on the front pocket and traces her fingers over the painted devil. There are pins she was somehow blind to, of bands she'd never heard of— except Metallica and Dio— and she curses her brain for being too curious for its own good.

A couple weeks pass and Robin casually mentions to Steve in passing that they should take a day trip down to Indy and hit up a few thrift shops and music stores. He doesn't question it, so they do, and she comes home with new tapes she wants to show Eddie and new clothes that she can call hers.

She doesn't give the jacket back. Instead it hangs on her closet door as she pulls on her own, decorated in various pins and patches she bought in the city and had her mom help her sew them on, over a black Blondie t-shirt.

She's even taken a chance with eyeliner and darker eye shadow that compliments her nails. Wears the chain necklaces she was wearing the day she got Steve as a best friend.

He's leaning against the car when she walks out of the house. He gives her that same once over and she can already feel the warmth spreading across her cheeks. She comes to a stop in front of him.

"It's a good look on you," he says gently as if he can sense her nervousness. He probably can. They share a brain cell, after all.

She lets out a sigh of relief and leans into his space. He just laughs and pulls her in to plant a kiss on the middle of her forehead.

"Does this mean you'll stop stealing my clothes?"

"Not a chance, dingus."

#cj writes #the three muskequeers #answered #sharpbutsoft #robin buckley #platonic stobin #i am SO sorry this is late. i started it then forgot about it and it's been sitting here staring at me ever since. so. here you go! #i love the hc that steve's robin's and eddie's wardrobe gets all mixed together #also this sort of turned into punk-leaning robin and i'm not mad about it

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Upcoming Fic Excerpt

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Rating: Teen and Up, except one chapter which could be skipped

Summary: Modern AU romcom. A love story heavily inspired by When Harry Met Sally.

Note: Hi all, as a Valentine's Day gift to you all, I present below the opening scene of my upcoming multi-chapter - It Had To Be You. I plan to start publishing this in March. I hope you enjoy <3

UPDATE: full fic is now posted HERE

12 Years Ago

When you pull up outside her halls of residence, she has her tongue down some man’s throat—typical Gen. 

She finally acknowledges your presence when you lower the window and cough pointedly. A few days ago, when she said her latest boyfriend needed a lift from St Andrews to London, you didn't offer; she volunteered him to join you before you could conjure a believable excuse. Someone to talk to on the long journey wouldn't be such a bad thing; you tried to convince yourself reluctantly. You were slightly worried about who he might be. Gen’s taste in men could be best described as random. Or questionable if you were feeling less charitable. But as he turns towards you, something in your chest flutters. 

Oh. 

He looks different to her usual choices. He appears rich, just from a glance. But the sort of rich that dresses in ratty clothes as a style choice rather than out of economic necessity. His jeans are distressed around the knees, and there’s an almost threadbare patch right around his rather shapely - don't look there, you admonish yourself - arse. He wears a faded grey t-shirt and converse that are speckled with paint.

“Y/n, meet Ben,” he nods briefly before she pulls him back for another completely inappropriate kiss.

Ben...? Really, Gen? Matching names is a bit too fucking twee.

As they break away, he tosses his bags in the boot of your car and, after another round of tonsil tennis, climbs into your passenger seat. He smiles crookedly, and you see his blueish eyes catch a ray of late Spring sun; his voice instantly makes you shift in your seat as you exchange hellos. Definitely a posh boy. Definitely a playboy. Definitely not the type to keep his bed empty for long. You already dislike him. You especially dislike how attractive your body seems to find him, despite yourself.

This is going to be a long journey.

“You want to drive the first shift?” you ask politely.

“You are already there,” he shrugs, “go right ahead.”

As Gen becomes a waving figure in your rearview mirror, something tells you you will likely never see her again. It's that time when life goes in a million different directions—the end of university. You've been here for your undergraduate course. Apparently, he has been here for his master's in Fine Art. 

“What takes you to London?” he asks as you pull out of the university grounds.

“I'm going to be a journalist,” you state proudly.

He laughs. “You and the rest of the world.” 

You bristle at his amusement. You are a talented writer; you know it will happen for you someday. You have a summer internship at the Guardian. Okay, it's unpaid, but it's a start.

“You?” you shoot back, squinting in the sun.

“Artist. I’m setting up a studio in Hoxton.”

Urgh. That's so achingly trendy you actually want to smack him.

Your phone buzzes, and you check it discreetly at the next traffic light. It's from Gen.

I know exactly what you are thinking. Posh boy twat. His cock is amazing though. Safe travels x

You squeak and drop your phone into the footwell. Ben cuts you a curious sideways glance. 

“I can grab it,” he offers rather chivalrously as he sees you groping blindly around your feet as the light turns green.

“No!” you startle, “it's fine, just uhh leave it there, I don't need it. I know the way to Edinburgh from here.” your voice takes on a high-pitched quality that sounds ridiculous even to your own ears.

He seems to stare at your profile for an inordinate amount of time.

“Gen said you were a little high-strung,” he says drolly.

You frown over at him. “I'm just particular,” you argue back.

He laughs and looks out the window. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Yes, I do,” you prickle, “that’s a disgusting habit, and you should give it up.”

“She said you were opinionated too,” he adds, his tone so casual and laid back it just makes you more wound up.

“My car, my rules,” you retort, glancing irritated in your rearview at the lorry getting far too familiar with your rear bumper.

“That's fair enough.” 

He suddenly lunges for something in the backseat, twisting, so his t-shirt rides up, his whole body thrust towards you. You see a flash of toned abdominal muscle and a tantalising line of hair disappearing into his jeans.

You quickly cut your eyes back to the road and have to slam on the brake not to hit the car in front, praying momentarily that the lorry behind is paying more attention than you are. Damn him. 

“Fucking hell!” he exclaims, falling back into his seat and grabbing the dashboard to right himself.

“Sorry,” you mumble, knowing you are blushing. “Can you please not do that when I'm driving?”

“Do what?” he feigns ignorance, but you can tell he knows exactly what just happened, the cocky bastard.

“Climb into the backseat,” you grumble.

“I leaned back to grab something; I didn't climb anywhere,” he disputes, shaking a packet at you. “This is for your benefit, I might add,” he says pointedly, ripping open the box and fishing out a nicotine patch.

“Well, just sit still, please,” you huff, spying a flash of very shapely bicep out of the corner of your eye as he rolls up the sleeve and slaps on the patch.

“Yeah, not highly strung at all,” he mutters under his breath.

Yep. You absolutely want to kick him.

#fic excerpt #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

[gointothevvater]

as a kite

This one features @dolly-macabre 🖤

.

"Fuck men."

Furrowing her plucked-down brows, Dolly asked, "Are you making a feminist statement, or...?"

Glancing up from where her head was pillowed on soft Dolly's thighs, St. Cecilia admitted, "Don't think so." The words came on a puff of silver-blue smoke. She'd never been lucky in love, and after yet another breakup, she wasn't feeling very charitable. "I'm just saying." She took a drag from the joint Dolly rolled for her earlier, holding it down in her lungs for a moment with practiced ease. "Fuck men." With great concentration, she blew out a perfect smoke ring. "Fuck women, too." Another perfect ring.

This one, Dolly caught on her middle finger for a few seconds before it dissipated around her hand.

A smirk, and St. Cecilia's golden eyes snagged Dolly's. "Fuck me, preferably."

Though Dolly's eyes rolled, she didn't outright refuse, instead pushing St. Cecilia's bangs away from her face and asking, "How high are you?"

Pursing her lips, eyes hooded, St. Cecilia eventually said, "Couple thousand feet." She shot Dolly a dirty look for laughing at her, but Dolly wasn't the slightest bit intimidated. "Could prob'ly join the mile-high club right now."

Carding her fingers through silvery hair, carefully easing out a few tangles, Dolly said, "I don't think that's the kinda high they mean." There was laughter in her voice.

Glancing up with blown-dark eyes, one brow lifted, a pretty smirk teasing up one side of her mouth, St. Cecilia asked, "You sure?"

Clicking her tongue, Dolly half-laughed, "Pretty sure, yeah."

St. Cecilia's golden eyes rolled, and she sat up, turning and straddling Dolly's hips, and then Dolly was the one sprawled out on the floor. Leaning in so her chest was pressed to Dolly's, St. Cecilia purred, "You wanna try anyway?"

#metalocalypse #original character #st. cecilia jameson #dolly macabre #my mtl

[gay-jesus-probably]

TOTK being like that makes a lot of sense when you look at Japanese propaganda and apologia about imperial Japan and I wish people who think you’re overreacting would look at that

Oh yeah, considerable smarter people than me have pointed out that TOTK's story and worldbuilding is pretty much an exact replica of the kind of propaganda that supported Japanese imperialism. And given that far right nationalism is a very active problem over there right now, having one of the biggest game companies in the world sell that as an extremely popular game meant for children is... alarming. To put it mildly.

I don't know enough about Japanese culture to feel qualified to comment on it though, but the points I've seen raised are pretty fucking concerning. And is also why I find it so infuriating that I keep getting condescending messages from people telling me that it's just a game and I'm reading too much into it. Though I also find those arguments to be pretty damning for the 'totk is a good story' crowd, because I've been rambling about this for weeks now, and so far literally the only arguments people have been able to raise against me are either just "it cant be imperialist propaganda, thats bad and the game said they're the good guys" or "why are you trying to get immersed in the story of a role playing game and analyze its themes, it's not that deep".

The thing is, I'd say I'm approaching this from a charitable pespective by trying to analyze the story. Because, as I've mentioned, if I take it all at face value, it's a boring mess that I couldn't possibly care less about. The darker undertones and implied politics of the game are the most interesting part of the writing. Otherwise all I'm left with is just some incredibly flat and boring writing.

I mean jesus christ, just look at Sidon's pathetic excuse for a character arc! He was acting completely normal, then suddenly he announced that actually he could not do the dangerous thing that needed to be done. Then Yona informed him he didn't want to do the thing because he was sad about Mipha, Sidon immediately realized he wasn't doing the thing because he was sad about Mipha, and then he decided he wasn't sad anymore and would go do the thing. And after that thirty second conversation, the writers really had the fucking nerve to have Yona say "Wow, he's grown so much as a person lately". It all just came right the fuck out of nowhere, with zero nuance or subtlety as they outright informed me "hey, he's having a character arc aaaand he's done PRAISE THE WRITERS FOR THEIR GENIUS". Like guys. Please. I could write more compelling dialogue when I was twelve, what the fuck is this.

#tears of the kingdom spoilers #tears of the kingdom

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

diiary 2/25/2023

okayyy i been needing to write a longform post for a while! just to chronicle some thoughts in a cohesive way. & getting straight to the point: i'm realizing there is very little, if ANY payoff, to being an artist online. i'm not talking about money. im talking about the way it's like, the more ppl start to see you as an "artist", the more they feel like ur some kind of public figure they can lash out at w no repercussions. ur humanity is just wiped from their minds. i don't have some huge following by any means but for ME its gotten big since in the past i've been a serial deleter. usually at 800 followers im gone.

i love being creative & sharing for the sake of sharing but i deeply fear any kind of spotlight. since i came back onto tumblr i made the pledge to myself not to delete my account if it started growing but now im having second thoughts!! well i'll never delete this account cus im too sentimental but part of me just wants to stop posting in the ways i tend to do. like maube im too forthcoming & need to slink back into the shadows a bit. because i don't want to stop contributing art & music to the world but idk how to protect my heart.

like it's so crazy to me that artists are expected to b these idealistic icons of everything the viewer represents & if they make a single mistake its like fuck we better launch a pUBLIC HARASSMENT CAMPAIGN!! genuinely like, how are people supposed to want to put themselves out there when the climate is so hostile? it has got me feelin rly nihilistic i must admit. trying to put nice stuff into the world shld not be generating drama for me, especially when it's just my hobby & not even my "career".

for a while ive had no idea what to do for work or how to generate income in a way that works for me but honestly? im gonna bite the bullet & do some coding bootcamps so i can try n get a remote job doing some tech shit & making a fat salary. i guess i never rly considerd it before cus all the silicon valley stuff susses me out but idk. im naturally really good at code + my only real dream in life is to be able to support others & redistribute wealth. like ive never had anything of my own to share but if i could actually do this & become the secure+charitable person i wish to be, i think i cld finally have some inner peace/sense of fulfillment. plus i cld still be a recluse ^_^

ok well i guess that my diary entry for now. im rly grateful to everyone on this site who is genuine & respectful towards me. i am really enjoying all my creative projects right now & i just dont want it to ever stop being fun just because the internet doesnt want it to be fun for me. i seriously wonder why artists are the number one targets right now, i mean not to get too conspiratorial but like, this is exactly what the CIA wants :/ wahtever....i have no agenda other than plur. but yeah, i might just start to distance myself more from posting anything other than my work. we'll see. just kno that i dnt want it to b this way. ilu guys

[falinscloaca]

new criticisms of the kara portion of that "cohost bad" post showing up and good golly! golly gosh! i know this language is trivializing but i'm struggling to keep up with this shit without falling to pieces! (not in a laughing way for the record!!! shits bad on my end! not as bad as other people rn probably but still bad!) and just. drama youtubers will never not casually misgender trans people getting called out for shit huh. good luck seeming true and just and righteous when you can't even fucking keep track of a pronoun, fucker.

i also can't believe i have the internal thought of "well, that WAS two links deep, the person who made the video the person who made the ORIGINAL post and then the person who made the 'cohost isn't good actually' post which we're* taking more direct issue with. Like do I REALLY expect the OP of the cohost post (copost....) to check the SOURCES' SOURCES?" because like. yes actually you should check your sources' sources. so either its negligence, didn't-notice-the-he/himmage, or malice. And given the present as-of-typing silence FROM the person who made that fuckin post I don't feel terribly charitable.

*WE, i have turned on it fully, jfc the eevee shit is one thing but if you are going to brandish about pedo-condonement accusations NOW, at a TMA person SPECIFICALLY *NOW*, at the VERY FUCKING LEAST DON'T CITE BULLSHIT. I TAKE THIS STUFF SERIOUSLY AND *PERSONALLY* WHEN ITS A PART OF OUR COMMUNITY to the point that when the accusations are real and people continue to deny it i get fucking ravenous AND I DON'T TAKE KINDLY TO BEING FUCKED AROUND WITH.

That said i do still think the TOS for cohost is maybe a touch too loose with what it considers dangerous enough to moderate cse...f-wise (f stands for fiction. if proponents of the stuff get to hide behind the legalese of "real" child porn - which to be fully clear i am in favor of having its own label theres a world of difference between recordings of the harm of IRL kids and ficticitious shit i just don't think that the fictitious shit is harmless or sterile either. clearly different albeit related monsters in that sense- why don't I just vomit out a neologism. maybe i can get my name in the history books for coining it. kill me.) putting it lightly. But also coming up with foolproof moderation rules for that kind of site in terms of what "creative" content is or is not acceptable to host does sound impossible so what do I know. Cohost the web site is not off "the hook" (which hook????) but i think the case should be thrown out and at *most* re-researched and reconsidered on Kara specifically. fuckers...* *referring to the person/people who made the posts i'm referencing. not You, the audience of this post right now.

#i still don't personally trust the defendant but thats because my internal instincts treat pedojacketing(??) like some sort of cognitohazard #slash basilisk type deal. and should not actually be taken that much into consideration compared with fucking context clues #THE OP WASNT EVEN A TRANS WOMAN FOR PETES SAKE

[frozenbound]

Henlo the previous anon here! Waaaaahh you did so great with the prompt (poor Hanzo needs to walk with crutches). Would love to see a sequel where its Genji riding a toy this time 🤤

This ask was sent via Zaqa, which allows anonymous asks with an account!

I'm happy to hear you liked it, Anon! Thanks so much for requesting a sequel! I decided to mix in something that came up in a previous ask with hardlight dildos, as well as adding a small element of identity porn. I hope you enjoy it!

Genji enjoying riding his toy, coming right up under the Read More!

It was five days before Genji was walking normally again.

It wasn’t a surprise. For one, Cassidy’s cock had been huge and Cassidy had been rough. For another, it took that long for Mercy to come back, and after she had attended to Hanzo’s broken pelvis, it was easy to sidle up to her and whisper that he had a “personal” problem that just needed a small dose of biotics from her staff. 

Mercy was a good, thorough doctor, however, so it took a little more than that before she said, “Oh!” in a knowing tone, and then he was walking out of the medical bay without any trace of a stiff-legged limp.

Good thing, too. Hanzo would be waking up any minute now after his surgery, and Mercy wouldn’t have spared him any of her best effort to be sure he woke up healthy and whole…and incredibly horny.

Then he would go straight to his quarters.

In search of his toy.

Winston really seemed to have it out for Genji's brother. The very same transport that had brought Mercy back to the Watchpoint had taken Cassidy away.

Apparently, there was a stubborn band of former Blackwatch-turned-Talon operatives that his brother-in-law was by far the most qualified to handle.

So off he went.

Winston had asked to speak to them three days ago, and specifically requested them to be in the cafeteria when they took the call. In hindsight, it was obvious he had wanted them to be in an open and public space where they couldn’t roast him alive like they certainly would’ve had they been in their quarters.

His brother and brother-in-law had been so angry and so horny after Winston broke the news as gently as he could (and then ended the video call as quickly as he could) that they hadn’t been quite mindful enough of their lack of privacy.

“Fuck!” they had roared together, swinging all four of their fists down onto the table.

Genji had been about to enter the cafeteria, but he had paused at the shouted…shrieked word that was almost deafening out here in the hallway despite the firmly closed door.

Then there had been a diatribe, a tirade, that Genji had listened to, slack-jawed, because while he knew that both men had what could charitably be called “tempers”, it was amazing to hear them so enraged at the same time.

It had taken about fifteen minutes before their throats were too raw and there were no more chairs within arm’s-reach to throw.

Then, a deathly silence descended.

Then…

“Don’t,” Cassidy started, with sudden hesitance in sharp contrast to his bitter anger a few moments earlier, “Don’t…think less of me for this…”

More silence.

“For what?” Hanzo croaked, sounding exhausted now that he had vented out his immense frustration, but also clearly mystified and suspicious.

“For…for looking at…toys. While you’ve been…while we’ve been waiting.”

Hanzo sighed, the sound soft but clear to Genji’s cybernetic ears. “I don’t think less of you,” he murmured. “I’m only sorry that I couldn’t meet your needs.”

“Don’t need anything but you,” Cassidy said firmly, slamming his fist down on what must be a very dented table by now. “I’d wait a hundred years for you, and then I’d wait a hundred more if I had to. Which is what this’ll feel like,” he added bitterly.

There was another short silence, and Genji wondered if his brother had leaned against Cassidy or taken his hand or something similar. That had been the time to sneak away and stop listening to this clearly private and intimate conversation, but unfortunately…

“What did you find among those ‘toys’? I assume it’s something…ah…pertinent,” Hanzo said, sounding increasingly uncertain the longer he talked.

“Yeah, I’ll get right to the point. Hardlight dildos. Customizable hardlight dildos. Uh…live customizable dildos.”

It took his brother a moment.

“Live?”

“Live as in, current. Broadcasting. Streaming.”

Another moment.

“Oh.”

Now, despite the circumstances of Genji’s existence, when it came to electronics and telecommunications he was much more a user than a programmer…or a hacker.

But he’d learned a few tricks, especially since the terrifyingly powerful Sombra had reared her purple, glowing head and shut down parts of his cybernetics for a short but hair-raising time. Then, if only to understand what had happened to his body and how it happened, he had done some intense reading on the subject, and had grown increasingly nervous about how vulnerable all internet-connected devices were.

He’d never imagined, however, that he’d be taking advantage of those vulnerabilities. 

In the end, everything had been frighteningly easy.

Just a quick look at the express package that arrived at the Watchpoint less than 24 hours later, with the return address helping to ensure that another express package arrived less than 24 hours after that.

Then a quick search with the new WiFi visualization filter that Winston and Mercy had added to the cybernetics in his visor to help track Sombra’s movements and hacking locations, which came complete with a shockingly complete amount of data when it came to things like device IDs and security certificates and “secure” connections…

A quick (and untraceable) cloning and synchronization of the data he had mined…

And there they were, sitting on his bed when he returned to his quarters: two innocuous-looking metal rings, one of which could simulate an asshole, and the other which could simulate a dick, both in realtime, both as an exact facsimile, and both with precise feedback.

Genji closed the door behind him and licked his lips.

He doubted that Cassidy was going to treat his husband with anything close to the intensity he had treated his “toy” five days ago…

…but Genji needed something akin to it.

And he was going to have it.

He disrobed, shrugging off the hoodie that he sometimes wore.

To be honest, he often wore it just to be able to take it off, slowly, with anticipation, baring the gray, artificial skin and tan natural skin of his torso.

Then he did the same with his sweatpants, biting his lip as he slid the elastic waistband over his thickening cock, making it spring out when the fabric finally fell over his hips and dropped to the floor.

Then he sat on the bed, his cock twitching occasionally in his lap, but it was his hole that he was concerned with today…though Cassidy had been able to satisfy both last time.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed by as he sat there, breathless with anticipation, watching those two rings and not aware of much other than hope, hope that he had cloned the software and settings correctly, that he had modified everything correctly so that he would receive data but not transmit any, that it would work, just please, let it work…

Then the asshole simulator lit up, the hardlight flickering as it formed the perfect image of a tight ring of muscle.

Showtime.

Genji moved quickly.

He sighed in breathless anticipation as he inserted the other ring between his buttocks even as he kept his eyes trained on the asshole. It was twitching and clenching so realistically, looking almost real despite the cool blue color of the hardlight, and Genji couldn’t help licking his lips as he suppressed his longing to dip down and take a little taste, a little feel.

The fact that it was…possibly…his brother’s asshole meant surprisingly little to him at this point, horned up and vibrating with anticipation as he was.

Though it was a reminder, a sharp reminder, of what Hanzo had said on that fateful day, while Genji had been hiding Cassidy’s sextoy and crawling under the sheets. 

“It will be a struggle to decide what to do: fuck you into the mattress or ride you into the sunset.”

What had his brother and brother-in-law decided in the end?

Whose facsimile of an asshole was Genji staring at right now?

He wouldn’t know until…

But…probably…not even then.

Growing up together, Genji and Hanzo had shared the castle baths enough times that Genji was aware that Hanzo was…amply…endowed. Maybe even equally endowed as his husband. 

Would Genji be able to tell the difference?

Would Genji…would Genji care?

The question had been floating in the back of his mind during this whole insane process, and the answer, while not definitive in the lead-up to this moment, had seemed to indicate that he was going to take the risk.

And now that the moment had arrived…

Suddenly, the simulated asshole at his side…opened.

For a wild crazy moment, Genji had no idea what could possibly be making it stretch so wide and then wink closed, but when it trembled, clenched, and then opened once more, the answer slammed into his mind and shot straight down to his dick.

Anal beads, he thought, awestruck, as he watched that asshole tremble and then spread wide open again, wider this time, and then try to wink closed, but not quite managing it.

Then, one final time, widest of all but still fairly small for an anal bead, at least in Genji’s experience, it spread spread spread and then snapped almost closed, the ring of muscle trying to grip in vain at the small empty circle in its middle.

And that was all the warning either it or Genji got.

“Ah!”

Genji couldn’t hold back the surprisingly needy yelp.

There was no build-up, no teasing, no foreplay. In an instant, in a single moment, Genji was getting absolutely pummeled once again.

He had planned to lay out on his bed, face down, ass up, just like last time, but the furious piston spearing into his flesh so big, so wide, so deep…so fast!...had his back ramrod straight, his mouth open, his eyes wide, and his cock so, so hard.

The question of whether it was Hanzo or Cassidy pounding into him was now the farthest thing from his mind; the pace, the ferocious, absolutely merciless pace, was all that mattered, all that he needed, all that he had craved since that fateful day under Cassidy and Hanzo’s sheets.

He was dimly aware of falling back until he was leaning against the wall, somewhat conscious that he was spreading his legs wide to welcome that barbarous invader into his innards, a little cognizant that, not bound to silence like he was before, he was letting little noises, whimpers and whines, escape his drooling mouth.

Otherwise his mind and ass were equally full of that wonderful, thick, long, ruthless cock, slamming into him over and over, seeming to strike directly at his prostate like a battering ram, like lightning, until…

“Ah! Y-yes, Cass, yes, brother, ah, yes, yes, yes!” Genji babbled as his cock throbbed, twitched, and then erupted, throwing a shower of opalescent cum high into the air to rain down on his chest and face. “Oh, brother, Hanzo, Cass, Cassidy, Cassidy, yes, fuck me! Fill me! Fucking drill me til I can’t walk! Oh! Oh! Ah!”

Whoever it was thrusting into him, they certainly had stamina. For a time that seemed endless yet incredibly short, Genji, now slouching against the wall as he panted and whimpered and gasped when another, and then another orgasm was punched straight through his prostate and out his dick, had the presence of mind to wonder if this was proof that it was Cassidy once again using him so wantonly, or if his brother, after so many weeks without, was displaying the same amount of far-too-long-deprived lust, but he didn’t have much capacity left to dwell on it; the room was too hot, the air was too thick with the scent of his own cum and sweat and his needy sounds, and the holographic cock barreling into him was just right, pushing aside his abused yet non-resistant flesh and sending bolts of pleasure echoing throughout him. 

Then, regrettably, that cock slammed into him one last time, struck into his core with a force that, despite everything he had endured, forced the air out of his lungs, and then, as though stuck fast, trembled and pulsed within him, and Genji shuddered at the thought of how much cum must be flooding out, gushing out, and he blinked and shouted as he came one last time, pushed over the edge by the thought.

Breathing hard, almost wheezing, he came back to himself some time later.

The hardlight toys had powered off at some point while he had been lost in his post-orgasmic haze, leaving him achingly, almost pathetically empty.

He stared at the ceiling, breathing in the sharp, humid smell of his own essence, feeling it drop across his skin in rivulets and streams.

Success, he thought to himself with a weak chuckle. Success.

#shimadacest #yeehan #spuriken #identity p*rn #requests #asks #my stories #anon

[thorniest-rose]

babe. when i first came to you with the idea for jailbait steve i knew you would get it. at most i was hoping for maybe a bit of a smutty blurb that toed the line with age appropriateness and all that.

but you took that idea and fucking ran with it and it was so so so good! i honestly do not have that words but i’m gonna try!

i love all the weird, crazy hints to you dropped about eddie. him low-key stalking steve, him jerking off to the thought of him, just everything about him being that freak that he is made my heart so full!!

steve, the little minx, was absolutely perfect. loved that he was always finding a way to insert himself into eddie’s day and playing up the innocent act!

oh god i want more i want so much more. you’re sexy and incredible and beautiful and wonderful and maybe my favourite author in this fandom!! thank you so much for writing it! i may have to go read it again right now!

p.s. the bits with hellfire were spot on as well! i loved the subtle hints you made towards gareth being intrigued by steve! (would love to see how that plays out in this universe too because i know eddie would train steve good and share him with his best friend, he’s charitable like that!)

— jailbait!steve anon 🍭

hi there!!! oh my gosh original jailbait!steve anon, all I can say is thank you so much for giving me the idea that sparked the entire fic, I'm not sure I ever would have thought of it without you, so thank you.

It was really important to me when I was writing it not just to let it be a smutty, kinky fic, because I thought the potential for it to be so much more about yearning and forbidden desire was there. Near the start of the fic when they meet in the clearing, I also write that there's a sense of recognition between Steve and Eddie, and that was my little implication that it's canon Steve and Eddie meeting in another universe after both dying during the events of Stranger Things. And that's also why they're so inexplicably drawn to each other. I'm not sure if that really comes across because I wanted to keep it very subtle but in my head that layer was always there.

And yes, I'm so committed to a depiction of Eddie that's a little more wild than you usually see in fic. I like to hc him as having a somewhat feral childhood because his parents were never around and he grew up in poverty. I also see him a survivor of child abuse and neglect, and that's given him a thick skin. My Eddie is probably a little harder than the one in canon, but I hope he still feels like Eddie! He's the same, he just has a few more edges on him. The same with Steve. I didn't want him to be a one-dimensional sexpot, but a character who's complex and who feels like the Steve Harrington we all know and love from the show, who has the capacity to be cruel, entitled and prickly but who ultimately is vulnerable and kind, who more than anything wants to be loved.

Your words about me as a writer are incredibly lovely, and I'm honoured to be one of your favourite authors in the fandom, especially considering I haven't written much! But it's always my intention to bring a different point of view and to step away from accepted fanon where I can to explore the characters in slightly different ways, and to use them to explore themes and dynamics that interest me, which is very much what I did in this fic. I would love to write more when I can, so fingers crossed this won't be the last we see of this Steve and Eddie!

omg and DON'T tempt me re Gareth dhdhdhs I already have a little fic in progress where Gareth has had a crush on Steve for years so Eddie lets him fuck Steve. It's messy and yucky but sweet and tender and I can't wait to post it so you can read it!!!

Thank you so much again for the inspiration, I'm so, so happy the fic was all you hoped it would be and more 💖💖💖

#asks #sweet boys taste like sour candy #my fics #sorry this was sitting in my inbox for a few days #i wanted the time and headspace to write you a thoughtful reply and not just capslock and flail

[aristocratic-otter]

Hello, Y'all. Thank you, @bookish-bogwitch, @fatalfangirl, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @erzbethluna, @hushed-chorus, @artsyunderstudy, @stardustasincocaine, @cutestkilla, @nightimedreamersghost, @whogaveyoupermission, @ileadacharmedlife, @larkral, @facewithoutheart, @confused-bi-queer, @palimpsessed, @johnwgrey, @moodandmist for the tags on Today and Sunday. I've read some of y'all's work, but not all of it yet, I'm sorry😥.

I normally require myself to read everyone's amazing posts before I post my own, but I just found out I've been exposed to COVID, I'm feeling a little symptom-y (all in my head? Maybe), and I've been dying to share a bit of my new WIP, but I'm too tired to keep reading tonight. I promise, I'll get to reading and commenting on all of y'all's lovely work!

It's tentatively titled 'The Fall of Simon Snow', but that's very tentative, as I think there may already be a fic in fandom called that. But oh well, I've got plenty of writing to do before I have to decide.

The premise is that the War starts at the beginning of that winter break in CO, so chapter 61 never happens, and the old families launch their offensive during that scene in the white chapel in CO. Before the bit I'm sharing, our three heroes have been magically knocked out by invading old family representatives just after the Mage is killed.

The old families are not inclined to be charitable to Simon.

Beginning under the cut for length:

Baz

Simon’s magic is flowing out from him in thick, nauseating waves. The Humdrum is absorbing most of it; the boy is flickering in and out of existence beneath Simon’s hands, which have a death grip on the Humdrum’s shoulders. Bunce has fallen to her knees beside me, clutching her stomach. I struggle to get to Simon, but I can’t force my legs to move. 

~~*~~

I wake up, head throbbing, in the backseat of Fiona’s MG. I’m disoriented. Did…did all of that happen? Where’s Simon? And Penelope? How did I get here? Is everyone else dead?

“Where’s Simon?” I force out through trembling lips. 

Fiona startles and turns to look at me, and I wince, because she takes her hands entirely off of the steering wheel to do so. She takes in my state and then shakes her head. “Where’s Simon?” I repeat, with greater force. 

Fiona turns her back to me again and, to my relief, puts her hands back on the steering wheel. “Not your concern, nor mine, boyo,” she says tightly. 

“Fuck that!” I snarl. “What’s going on?”

“I’m taking you home, Basil. And that’s all you need to know right now.”

“The hell you are,” I mutter. She’s got the MG’s top down. She’s always got the top down. I think she likes how dramatic it makes her look, with her hair flowing behind her like a black flag with a white stripe. I glance over the side and calculate my chances. As per usual, she’s traveling above the speed limit. But the road we're on is gravel, so she’s exercising some caution—probably only crunching along at 40 miles an hour. 

I know I’ll survive the fall. I just want to be prepared for how much it’s going to hurt. 

I gather my courage, and then slip my seatbelt buckle free and vault over the side of the car like a gymnast jumping over the pommel horse. I hit the ground and hear an unpleasant crack from my ankle, and then momentum tumbles me over.

Once I stop somersaulting, I drag myself grimly to my feet. I barely notice the screeching of brakes behind me as I test my ankle to see if it will hold my weight. It will, barely. I set off running…well, limping. 

The last thing I hear is Fiona’s voice, shouting, “Rockabye Baby!”

Simon

Cold. 

I can’t remember the last time I felt cold.

Wait…yes I can. Sixth year. Baz’s forged note and the snow demons. That was cold. 

This is colder.

Tags and hellos and wishing you all a healthy Wednesday, @angelsfalling16, @annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @basiltonbutliketheherb, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @fight-surrender, @foolofabookwyrm-activated, @giishu, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @frjsti, @krisrix, @prettylightsbigcity, @raenestee, @technetiumai, @tea-brigade, @urban-sith, @whatevertheweather, @yellobb-old, @yeonjunenby

#New fic #canon divergent au #I must be insane to add another WIP #co/ws/awtwb #wip wednesday

[sansxfuckyou]

The awful edges where you end and I begin

Summary: Can they really call themselves enemies when the most intimate they've ever been in their lives is nearly dying in each others arms?

Warnings: Mild gore, violence, suggestive themes, check Ao3 port for full tags.

Authors Note: And then enemies to lovers was the prompt for day three and I decided to bust out the fantasy AU and go feral over them once more. I wrote 80% percent of this after nine PM on a Tuesday even so if there's any flaws or whatever that's why. @sobredunia behold, they fucking need each other carnally, and I've displayed it once more as is my right. If you liked it consider dropping a reblog or checking out the Ao3 port and leaving a comment or kudos

A groan of annoyance followed Georges actions as he opened the back door of his home. He simply stared at the draconic hybrid before him, a nervous smile on the mans face.

"Hi," Sapnap barely managed to choke out, he wrapped his tail around his waist, whip-like in nature.

"What the hell are you doing in my domain?" George spat, venom clear on his voice as he spoke, hand already resting at the pommel of his sword.

"I got backstabbed," Sapnap said, he gave a laugh, it was almost lightheaded.

"We've all been backstabbed," George answered with, "I hope you have a good excuse."

"No, I literally got backstabbed," Sapnap turned around, gesturing to the jagged blade jutting from the small of his back, "I got stabbed in the back," Blood oozed into the white shirt he wore.

"Oh my god Sapnap," Was all George could muster, he was stuck in place.

"Do you think I could crash in the stables tonight?" Sapnap asked, somewhere on his voice was a laugh.

He took one staggering step forward and then he collapsed, knees buckling under his weight. Arms instinctively shot out to catch him, he nearly took George down with him in the fall. George doesn't know what to do next, he reaches around to grab the knife and tug it out but the barely muted yowl of pain keeps him from doing so.

"I hate you," George muttered as he dragged Sapnap inside.

"I hate you too," Sapnap answered with, shakily following each of Georges steps, "I just, I didn't know where else to go."

George placed Sapnap down on a bench, side resting on the plush fabric. He hesitantly held his hands on Sapnaps stomach, pressing in just a little bit for a sign that it went all the way through. Sapnap whined as George did so, but there wasn't the slightest pinprick.

He blinked in and out of reality as George left, everything looked just a little bit bleary. It looked a little bit bleary the second he started to trudge to Georges castle, but it was the closest place he knew how to get to even with a sword in his back. He tried to steady his breathing, quell the panic once more, but the heat running down his back really didn't help him. George returned with a roll of gauze, he crouched down in front of Sapnap and took a heavy breath.

"What's gonna happen is that I'm gonna take out the knife, get some gauze on it, and you're gonna be on your way after a night of sleep," George explained, bringing his hand to rest on the knife, Sapnap nodded.

"Thank you," He spoke quietly.

George rolled his eyes, "Just be glad I'm feeling particularly charitable tonight."

Then he yanked out the blade, searing hot agony shot to the gaping wound and Sapnap screamed. Tears quickly rose to pour down his face as he bit his tongue, doing everything to try and shut up before George would tell him. He dug his nails into the palms of his hand and squeezed his eyes shut until it went away.

"I could kill you right now," George murmured quietly as he tugged at the edge of the many layers Sapnap wore.

"Not helping man," Sapnap shot back on a hiss as George rolled up his shirts, he actively forced his knees from raising to his chest as he was exposed.

"Are you thinking about the pain?" George taunted with a Cheshire smirk on his face.

Sapnap shook his head, "N-No."

George gave a hum of amusement, "Then it is helping," He unfurled the gauze and wedged his handed between the couch and Sapnap, he lifted himself a little bit, sliding a strip of gauze around his midsection.

"Fuck off," Sapnap barely got out, the slightest tinge of humor on his voice. He bit his tongue when George pried his tail from his midsection, the swath of oozy pleasure it riled up in him was unwelcome given his current predicament.

"I'll kick you out right now if you don't watch your mouth," George stated coldly, tone sharp as ice. He gave a tightening tug and Sapnap winced at the pressure, he loosened it again.

Sapnap nodded as George dressed his wound, he sprouted the occasional medicinal herb as he worked away at the cavity in Sapnaps chest. He layered shrubbery and gauze like he'd done it a hundred times over, and he did it with such a calculated calm Sapnap wouldn't be shocked if he had. His touch is so gentle, even with callouses and cracks around his nails he's pressing and prodding so carefully. It makes Sapnap feel like he's made of porcelain, a treasure meant to be protected and taken care of.

He quite likes that feeling.

Although he'd like it more if he knew that George wouldn't be ready to kill him at a moments notice.

"You still awake?" George asked quietly, shaking Sapnaps shoulder a bit. He blinked himself awake from a state of being half asleep, he gave a groan as he tried to sit up, George pushed him down.

"I'm up," He tried to sit up once more, this time George let him. He gave a cry of pain, reaching to grasp at the wound.

"Did you seriously fall asleep while I was fixing you up?" George asked as he stood up, he held out a hand to Sapnap.

Sapnap took Georges hand, "No," He wobbled as he stood.

"I could've killed and you right then and there and you wouldn't even fight back," George mused as he led Sapnap down the halls, "Missed opportunity."

"Then how come you didn't?" Sapnap asked before he could let the words process in his head.

George turned to face him, "I like it when my rivals are alive instead of dead."

"Rival huh?" Sapnap asked with a bit of a laugh.

"I could still kick you out if you don't shut up," George threatened with, "Even if you're dead I'll find someone else."

"So I'm all you have?" Sapnap teased, distantly aware he was quite literally flirting with death with every word he spoke, but the blood loss was going to his head and he didn't care.

He barely caught the flush on Georges face, so faint it could be mistaken for the lighting, "So what if you are? Who wouldn't want to be my rival anyways?"

"Someone sane," Sapnap answered with as George swung open a door, "That someone clearly isn't me though."

"Clearly," George said bitterly, he nudged Sapnap into the room.

The decorations were sparse for the rich and the royal but to Sapnap they were plentiful. He stumbled over to the bed and collapsed onto it, he flipped onto his stomach and looked to George. His tail flicked back and forth as he did so, he brought his chin to rest in his hands.

"First thing tomorrow I want you out of my house," George said, Sapnap gave a thumbs up.

"Got it, rival," He smiled a bit as the world rolled off his tongue, there was an eye roll from George before the door shut.

-/-/-/-

George strafed aside as Sapnap lunged at him, stomping his foot and sending a tangle of vines at Sapnap. It hit him in the chest and sent him to the side, he rolled as he crumbled to the ground. Maybe if George understood the concept of mercy he would turn and leave because he'd clearly won.

That's what it looked like to a bystander at least.

He stood and waited for Sapnap to raise to his feet once more, his chest and rose and fell as he lay on the ground. Georges gaze was cold even as Sapnap didn't stand up as fast as he usually did, he took tentative steps closer. His grip on his sword tightened as he prodded Sapnaps form a bit from afar, the reaction was instant.

The dragon launching himself at George once more, axe ready to be swung. When he did the blade grazed Georges arm, he recovered much easier this time, dropping his axe and simply going for it. Sparks fluttered on his fist and turned to an inferno as his hands came into contact with George everywhere he could.

The instant burn tearing through his cape and his shirt and his armor had him screaming. He buckled to the ground, a coalesced collection of corals and cassia trees shooting up and knocking back Sapnap. Hands flung to his wounds, his blistering, bare skin, he hated how tears stung at the back of his eyes. Even on his knees and collapsed in pain he couldn't keep up the barrier of shrubbery forever no matter how much he needed it to stay up until Sapnap left. He heard the plantation come down, turning to a semblance of dust and mulch as it did so.

He looked over his shoulder to find Sapnap, axe raised high, ready to lay down the finishing blow. He grit his teeth and glared, even though this was his death he plans full well on acting like it won't be until he's in the dirt, becoming the next meal for the flora he nurtured. He takes ragged breaths, in and out, his entire body shakes with the pain coursing through him.

"Do it," He spits the words bitterly.

And Sapnap wants to, he's screaming at himself that really does want to end Georges life right here and now. But he can't do it, he lowers down the axe and along with it his guard. He drops his weapon and quells the flames flocking to his form, he won't do it.

George saved his life once, it's only fair he returns the favor despite the fact he caused the pain.

"No," Sapnap answers with, he takes a step closer to George and the charred remains of his armor. He doesn't move when George flinches, "I'm not killing you yet."

"We're enemies aren't we?" George asked bitterly as Sapnap took another step.

Sapnap crouched down beside George, "Yeah, but you're more fun when you're alive."

George scoffed, "What makes you so sure?"

"A hunch," Sapnap said, reaching around Georges waist to lift him up, the prince reluctantly doing as silently instructed.

"You know how treat burns right?" George asked quietly as Sapnap led him to the nearest body of water.

He shrugged, "Never really had to deal with 'em."

"I'm pretty sure people can die because of these Sapnap," George said, gesturing to the worrying amount of blisters along his shoulders and upper arms. Blood and puss boiled underneath his skin and he felt raw all over, it was beyond uncomfortable.

"I know George, but I don't think it'd be fair if I let you die," Sapnap said, helping George down the slope of sand each step of the way, making sure he was there to catch him if he slipped. There was one slip down the way but Sapnap easily caught George, holding him tightly at the waist to make sure he wouldn't get hurt more than he already was.

He stands hesitantly at the edge of the water, "What now?"

"Hop in," Sapnap instructed.

George swallowed audibly, "You're not gonna leave me to die when I'm shoulder deep right?"

"You didn't kill me when I fell asleep," Sapnap answered with as George kicked off his shoes and tugged off his socks. He paused, "If you're gonna undress I can look away."

George waved off the comment, "I'll be fine."

Sapnap took a seat in the sand as George took a seat in the shallow water, he didn't go much further even though it only went up to his elbows. Sapnap raised a brow, "Dude, you gotta go in deeper to help your burns with the cold water trick."

"I'm already freezing!" George snapped as he pushed himself a little further in, "Happy?!"

"Totally, now just, sit there for a minute," Sapnap said, George gave a huff of annoyance.

"Fine," He tried to keep his breathing steady despite the grating sensation of water flow against skin.

"It's for your own good," Sapnap said.

"You shouldn't even care about what's good for me!" George shot at Sapnap.

"You started it!" Sapnap shot back, unsure of what else to say and he catches it.

He catches the very small look of hesitation, or perhaps what he's catching Georges face is regret. Whatever it is it's gone as fast is it appears and Sapnap can't picture himself forgetting such a priceless expression.

George drags himself out of the water shortly afterwards, his clothing clings to his body like glue and drags him down to the ground as he walks over to Sapnap. He drops down next to the draconic man and draws his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees as he does so. He glances to Sapnap, "Now what?"

"Wait," Sapnap said nonchalantly, reaching out to flick aside damp strands sticking to Georges forehead where they don't belong.

"Wait? I'm positively drenched and I have to wait?" George asked, agitation clear on his voice, "How come I hoped in a lake then?!"

"To try and prevent scarring," Sapnap explained, "A bunch of scars on your shoulders might make it look like you got some weird orc disease."

"I guess, but I can't believe I just hopped in a lake," George muttered under his breath.

Sapnap shrugged, "Sometimes life is about hopping in a lake."

"No," George said bluntly, "It never is."

"Right, you've never been on the run," Sapnap said, giving a prompt roll of the eyes, "Sometimes you gotta hop in a lake man, if the authorities are on your tail getting drenched is always the better option than going to jail."

"I guess," George said, "I still feel like a massive idiot," He took off the tattered remains of his charred and soggy cape.

"You look like one too," Sapnap spoke it under his breath but George still glared, "Can't swing your sword!"

"And why not?" George asked, almost snarling as he did so.

"Blister might pop, it's just a mess and it will scar really badly," Sapnap explained, George was just about ready to punch him but he didn't because yeah, he supposes it makes sense that the guy with fire magic knows how burns work.

-/-/-/-

Sapnap is humming a simple tune as he heats his mug of hot cocoa, holding the ceramic between his hands and letting a couple sparks heat the drink. He takes a seat on his bed and rearranges the mess of blankets, a series of colors lay upon it, mostly ones he's ransacked from various villages on his adventures. He takes a seat and leans against the wall, he lifts a hand and shoots a cluster of sparks at the fireplace, it crackles loudly as it roars too life.

He gives a brief satisfied sigh as he takes a sip of his warm drink.

And then someone has the guts to knock on his door on a Friday night after he made sure to intimidate and scare off all sorts of surrounding wild life and people alike. He places his mug down on his bedside table before standing up and making his way to the front door, his tail flicks behind him impatiently. Again, they knock again, just to get the point across, he's tempted to ignore because of that and that alone. But he doesn't, reaching for the door handle and opening it with ease.

Tremors of shock run through him at the sight of George bloodied and beat on his door step. He's quick to usher in George, one hand resting on his back the other plucking twigs and fungus from his hair.

"I'm sorry," George choked out, "This is pathetic-"

"Shut up," Sapnap stated, cutting off George easily, "Please, shut up."

George nodded, "Okay."

Sapnap gives a groan of annoyance, "We're supposed to hate each other aren't we?"

George nodded, "Yeah."

"This is where I kick you out, right?" Sapnap asked.

George nodded, "Go ahead."

Sapnap bit his lip, debating whether or not this was the right idea, he went for it anyways, "You can stay the night, and the morning, but I want you out by lunch."

"Got it," George said, "Do you have any potions?"

"I'll go check," Sapnap said, gesturing vaguely to his bed, "You can have it for the night, I pass out by a fireplace pretty fast."

"Thank you," George said quietly as he took a seat at the edge of the bed, watching as Sapnap left.

Well, he didn't really leave, he just disappeared through a doorway for a brief moment. He came back out with an empty bottle, then he walked across the room, his tail stood up. It curved like a cats tail, his horns mimicked the curve just a little bit, pointed tips made of ridged enamel. He sat down at the edge of the bed beside George and held out the bottles.

"So I only had water on hand, but that's fine! We'll just clean out the cuts and bandage it," Sapnap said, holding up a square of stained and partially burnt fabric. He pressed it to the mouth of an open bottle and tilted it a couple times until he was satisfied with the dampness of the cloth.

George turned to face Sapnap and reached for the cloth, "I can do it myself."

"You look broken, I can help," Sapnap offered, George tensed up but reluctantly brought his hand to the collar of his shirt and pulled it down a bit to reveal a gash, blood already drying.

"That's the worst one," George said quietly.

"This is gonna sound weird, but I think this would be easier if you lied down while I cleaned up your wounds," Sapnap said with a nervous chuckle, George didn't even second guess it.

Sapnap leaned over George easily, hand resting above his shoulder and flaming red meeting mismatched hues for a brief moment before he redirects his focus to the wound. He dabs at the edges, brushing away flakes of dried blood as he does so, red oozes into the fabric the same way warmth spreads into George at the proximity. He knew Sapnap was really hot, physically really hot, considering the element that his magic held, but this was an intoxicating warmth. He loved it, and he hated the fact he liked it, the little sparks that flickered into him whenever fingers brushed against his collar bone.

He gives a pained groan when Sapnap lets the corner of the cloth dig too deep into the wound, he's quick to retract it. More blood bubbles to the surface of exposed flesh which is concerning, it's already soaked into Georges shirt. Sapnap places one knee on either side of Georges hips and sits up fully, looking down at his rival.

"I think I'm gonna need to cauterize it," Sapnap said, he sounded tense, and Georges eyes widened.

"You're gonna fucking what?" George said as he watched Sapnap heat up his hand, the center of his palm going from a consistently rough texture to almost glowing orange. His breathing hitched as Sapnap lowered his hand down slowly, trying to let George accustom to the heat.

He didn't refrain from letting loose a blood curdling scream as what felt like burning embers were pressed to his open wound. Sapnap flinched at the sound but didn't dare recoil, jamming his hand into Georges mouth until the sound muffled. He didn't even mind the teeth digging into his skin as he finished the closing the wound, burnt blood remained on his hand as he pulled it back. George didn't stop whimpering around the fingers in his mouth, his hands rested on the blankets, nails dug firmly into the fabric.

Sapnap pulled his hand away from Georges face and rubbed it on his pant leg, he brought his other hand to run along Georges torso. No lower than the bottom of his rib cage, he wouldn't dare do that, he does let his hands linger on Georges collar bones for a moment too long. He's swift to move further up the princes throat, sharp nails trailing against arteries and it draws a small whine from George- Sapnap ignored it. He eventually came to rest his hand on Georges face, swiping a smudge of blood off his cheek and carefully cauterizing a small cut.

"You know George," Sapnap began, still focused on finding all the little cuts, barely paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth, "You have a nice face."

"That's what everybody says," George said, Sapnap pushed aside a cluster of deep brown strands, burning hot finger tips pressed to the back of Georges ear where a small gash laid. That hazy crimson rose to his face comfortably as the motions washed over him like lazy waves at the beach.

"It's true," Sapnap muttered, cauterizing a paper thin cut that wouldn't stop dripping along Georges jaw line, dragging his finger along the wound.

George was drowning, he was being flooded in the fact that this was real, that all of this was happening. If he was standing his legs would be falling out from under him with with how fast and rough the heat tugged him from composure to melting. He isn't even sure he can stand up when Sapnap moves away, he has to actively refrain from reaching out, saying he didn't need to move.

"And that's the last of your cuts! All cleaned up and cauterized," Sapnap said, he sounded a little bit proud of himself. He let his gaze linger on George, acting like he was staring at his work instead of the prince laid out before him, on his bed-

"Thanks," George said softly, words carried on an exhale as he looked up at Sapnap.

Sapnap blinked once or twice, coming back to reality, "No problem, one of your domains fancy healers coulda done a better job then me."

George faltered before answering, "I don't exactly want them up in my space."

"And you came to me? Your sworn enemy?" Sapnap asked incredulously as he reached for his mug of hot cocoa.

"You're always up in my space, it's natural," George explained, Sapnap nodded, "That's stupid though."

"No, I get it," Sapnap said, he gave a sigh, "Sorta makes you wish we didn't hate each other doesn't it?"

George "Maybe we don't have to hate each other, we can still dislike each other, but I don't think we hate each other anymore."

"We tolerate each other," Sapnap said.

"Yeah, we tolerate each other," George echoed back, the faintest hint of an ache is on his face.

Sapnap held out a hand and pulled him into a sitting position, "If we're lucky maybe we'll be friends."

"That'd be nice," George said, "Unlikely, but it'd be nice."

Sapnap shrugged, "I wouldn't put the gods past letting a miracle fall into my lap."

-/-/-/-

George woke up to Sapnap curled up beside him, right beside him, the heat oozed into him and he felt woozy because of it. The draconic man was still asleep, perfectly so, huddled under blankets and treating Georges torso as a pillow. This is it, this would be the perfect moment to end him, to finish their silly little game of cat and mouse for good.

But George can't bring himself to do that, instead all he can is tentatively wrap an arm around Sapnap. They aren't this close, they aren't even friends, they're rivals, they barely tolerate each other. All of those perfectly functioning thoughts jump out of the window precisely after putting his train of thought on the wrong set of tracks. He doesn't dare move from his spot with Sapnap cuddled into him because he likes it and for the first time in his life he isn't afraid of that.

He runs his fingers through Sapnaps hair, sooty and black, he relishes in the way Sapnap presses up into the touch and starts to purr. He lets his touch roam to his horns, running along the ridged enamel, that makes Sapnap shift. He retracts his hand instantly but doesn't move much more as the hybrid rouses from his sleep, groggily blinking as he shifted around. He doesn't bother moving from where he rests against George, in fact he slings an arm across Georges torso insted.

"Mornin' George," Sapnap said sleepily, pressing a kiss to Georges cheek in his half asleep state, "Did you sleep good?"

George stayed frozen.

"George?" Sapnap asked carefully, pushing away from George and flinging aside the blanket, "Are you okay?"

"Did you just kiss me?" George asked, shock laced his voice even though he sounded almost breathless.

Sapnap paused, "Guess I did."

"That's it? 'Guess I did' you aren't like, freaking out?" George questioned, words picking up pace as he spoke.

Then Sapnap did it again, cutting off Georges speech.

"It's just a kiss on the cheek," He said dismissively as he did it again for good measure, "If I wanted to be worried I would've kiss you here instead idiot," Sapnap let himself press an impossibly chaste kiss to Georges jaw.

"I, you just woke up, we just agreed to tolerate each other," George said, recounting the previous nights events, how good the warmth felt was a highlight. He can't believe he's daring to complain about Sapnap kissing him on the cheek.

"Your point?" Sapnap asked.

"Isn't this all rather fast?" George asked in response.

Sapnap shrugged, "A little bit maybe, but you fell asleep in my house man, you let me cauterize your wounds."

George nodded.

"You saved my life not even last year George, and I 'saved' yours," Sapnap continued, "I think it's only fair, the next step or whatever."

"Can you," George paused as he spoke, having a hard time believing what he was saying, "Can you do it again?"

"Of course," Sapnap said with slanted smirk before doing it again, and again, and again.

They stayed in bed for most of the morning, trading promises and kisses. Sapnap picking flowers from Georges hair that kept popping up no matter what he did. George basking in Sapnaps warmth, letting himself just get lost in it as those touches trace along his sides.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this," George manages to get out on a breath, lost in the soft and impossibly sensations flooding around him.

"I won't," Sapnap answered with as he peppered George with kisses, bringing preheated hands to rest wherever the blue fabric left him uncovered, "I promise."

George tilts Sapnap into a kiss, it's heady with devotion, a devotion he once held purely for killing Sapnap. A desire that he directed to bring Sapnaps life to a brutal end now brought to just wanting him. He wants to act like he's the predator but he's the prey and he can't find anything to prove against it.

When he pulls away he doesn't want too, "Good."

-/-/-/-

Sapnap easily climbed in through the window to throne room of Georges castle, grinning as he did so. His footsteps echo as he steps further into massive hall, he fully expects George to be in his bedroom and relaxing elsewhere. He's only shocked a little bit when he sees George actually sitting in the stupidly oversized throne.

"George!" Sapnap calls out, relishing in the way George jumps awake.

"Use the front door!" George exclaimed, a smile on his face at the sight of his partner, usually in crime.

"And let the entire kingdom know you have an affair with a scoundrel like moi?" Sapnap said dramatically, he brought a hand to his chest as he spoke, "I wouldn't dare ruin your image like that."

George rolled his eyes at Sapnaps dramatics, "Yeah, yeah, what is it this time?"

"Oh you know me," Sapnap said, clinging onto Georges throne and laying atop his friend, "I'm just bored, ransacked the butchery, but I'm mostly bored George."

"Of course you are," George said with a somewhat expectant hum on his voice as he traced circles around the scar on Sapnaps back, it was covered by a layer of fabric.

Sapnap gave a chittery purr at the soothing motion, he shifted a little bit atop Georges lap. No more than a year ago Sapnap wouldn't dare be so vulnerable around George. But things change, and this time he's more than willing to welcome it.

"That was supposed to be my scar," George muttered quietly, sliding a finger along the hem of Sapnaps shirt.

"Still could be," The draconic hybrid answered with.

George scoffed, "The skin is already marred," He slid a hand under Sapnaps shirt, pressing on the scar tissue, "I wouldn't dare."

"How knightly," Sapnap teased, slinking away from Georges gentle touch and further up the backrest of the lounge he sat on, "How princely of you."

"There's lots of you that isn't scarred anyways," George said, keeping a facade of calm even as Sapnap clung to him, draping himself across royalty like silk.

Sapnap gave a hum, running a hand up Georges chest, "What makes you so sure of that?"

George laid a hand on Sapnaps throat, thumb resting atop one of his collar bones, "You display it constantly," He ran the blunted edge of a nail along an artery and rests it at the crux of shoulder and neck, "You've gotten rather comfortable in my home to be so careless."

"I suppose I have," Sapnap answered with, "But it's not like you give me any reason to be afraid either.

"Have you forgotten how we were last year Sapnap?" George asked, leaning in closer, "Knives at each others throats? The euphoria of our clashes? Did you forget about it so fast?"

"Maybe I miss it," Sapnap said boldly, a smirk on his face as he spoke, "As fun as domesticity is the spark is gone."

George gave a hum, "That it is," He has the pointed pommel of his sword pressed against Sapnaps abdomen in an instant, "But do you really want it back?"

Sapnap digs his claws into the back of Georges neck, just enough to make the prince tense, "Absolutely."

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