#look at me holding myself accountable to using tags

[10-honglazia-24]

Wooyoung’s POP+ Live…Solo(?)

ミ★ oneshot

Pairing: Solo content, MxM interactions

Chapters: 1

Word count: ???

Rating: 18+, mature, legals only, mdni !

Genre: smut, solo smut, porn with a little plot, follow up plot

Warning/tag: idol!wooyoung, fan!viewers, masturbation, edging, praise, fingering, begging, idol!san, just POP+ live smut, wooyoung being teased by another member, wooyoung getting more than he bargained for, pervert san, ONLY anal fingering and jerking off, hair pulling, dirty talk, degrading, really foul, revenge edging

Summary: After teasing and observing San having some fun of his own, thank to a simple pair of shorts he had chosen to wear, Wooyoung himself gets worked up and can’t help but turn on a live and work himself over a little for his fan. Unlike the lovely machine he used in his last session, he’s got a different ‘toy’ to try.

Inspiration from: Ateez as Camboys (Pt. 1) written by @akistaytiny

Follow-up of: San’s POP+ Live Solo written by myself

After posting the picture up on his POP+ account, Wooyoung couldn’t help but bite his lip as he scrolled through the comments. Reading through the begging crowd of fans telling him to take care of himself and to share it with them. Just wanting to see his cock out for them. Some wanting him to use his machine again and others wanting the view of his cock more than penetration. He’d be lying if he had said the comments himself didn’t already have him leaving a damp spot in his shorts.

So, quickly pressing himself up off of his bed- He moves to the couch, sitting comfortably with phone in hand and going through to the functions to starting a live. The comments flooding with screams and the myriad of nicknames the fans had for the other.

“Wooooyoung!”

“Wooyoung-ie!”

“Babyboy!”

“Has our Wooyoung come to share?”

Wooyoug can’t help but giggle before greeting the fans with a smile as he tosses his bangs aside. “Hellooo~ Your Wooyoung is here~ I couldn’t help myself, so I came to see you guys.”

As Wooyoung speaks and is watching the comments, he sees the fans notice very well enough that his other hand is occupied. Only holding his phone where they came see his face and shoulders…Other hand obviously working on his cock. Slow form strokes as he notes his lip.

“Wooyoung please show us~”

“PLEEEEEASE”

“Babyboy you promised you’d share~”

“Don’t tease us like you did Sannie”

Wooyoung couldn’t help but give a breathless laugh, sighing out as he leans back against the couch more. Blonde bangs falling to cover one of his eyes as he did so. Biting his lip as his hand begins to move faster. Cheating rising as he bites back a moan.

“You want to see~? Okay.” With flushed cheeks he finally tilts the phone down to show only his hand wrapped around his length. Moaning out softly as he teased at the slit with his thumb. A sheen layer around his cock and his fingers, lubing himself with his own precum. Only moments into admiring the scene, Wooyoung entertains his fans some more before spitting onto his cock to lube himself up some more. Another needy moan falling from his lips. Loud sighs of pleasure resonating from him as he takes turns between stroking himself and fondling his balls. With already flushed cheeks he looks back down to see the comments.

“Ugh, Wooyoung do that again~”

“you’re so hot Wooyoung”

“That’s so sexy~”

“Wooyoung-ie spit on your cock again please~?”

With a sheepish smile gathering at his lips, he does just as he’s requested. Spitting onto his cock again and stroking himself even faster.

“Wooyoung listens so well~”

“He’s a good boy. Right?”

“Wooyoung-is is our good boy~”

There’s a whimper that threatens to spill from the others lips. Slowly moving his hips to meet with the motions of his own hands. But the longer he watches the comments, the more he can’t hide the sounds.

“Y-Yes…I’m your good boy~…I- I like you to watch me…T-tell me how to do it…W-Wanna be good for you…”

“Wooyoung-ie is being so good for us~”

“So good for ATINY 🤭”

“Mmm~, A-ATINY…what should I do now? Tell me..” There’s a desperate tone in Wooyoung’s words now. Licking his lips as hungry eyes look down to the comments and he sees a few directing him to undress himself a little more. “Take them off? Okay-“

He then take his hand from his cock. Now moving to prop his phone up onto the table that was in front of the sofa. Making sure there was a better view for the fans. He pushes off his little black shorts first, revealing that there wasn’t even any underwear on underneath. Now propping his feet on the couch- Knees up and holding his legs spread to give the fans a full view. Showing off his pink hole and everything above. Hand quickly coming back down to begin stroking himself again. He kept the comments open once he knew the angle was good so he can focus more on seeing them rather than seeing himself…And that’s when he saw it…A certain comment but not from a fan…

“Lose the shirt.”

Wooyoung swallows seeing the highlighted comment, and more than familiar username. His legs closing slightly but his hand never stopped.

“S-San-ah I thought you were sleeping?”

It’s then that Wooyoung swears he can feel the other smirk from beyond the walls.

“Sannie!”

“Oh my god.. what’s happening now.”

“Is San going to help Wooyoung too?”

“Mmm, should I return the favor?”

There’s a whimper that falls from Wooyoung’s lips. Closing his eyes as he refuses to look at the comments for a moment. It was one thing getting to tease San- But the other was usually never bold enough to counter in such a way. He already knew San had watched his lives and even though he never commented until he had fucked himself into his machine, and now- The thought had been lingering in the back of his mind ever since. Why was he feeling this way?

“Be a good boy, Woo~ Didn’t you say to give them what they want?”

“Yes, please take off the shirt”

“We want to see everything babyboy~”

“Pleeeease~?”

With a defeated whine Wooyoung does as he’s requested- Removing his shirt and dropping it to the floor. His entire nakedness now brought into view for the fans now…And San.

“Spread your legs more- Show me your hole again?”

“Ahhh Sannie!?”

“Ah~ Sannie couldn’t sleep because of Wooyoung”

“🤭🤭🤭”

Not even able to recognize any other comments aside from San’s at the moment, Wooyoung feel his face grow hotter. Biting his lips and doing jsut as he was told. Spreading his legs more. Showing off his weeping cock and puffy hole.

“Fuck, that looks tight- But I’ve seen what you can put in~”

Wooyoung’s body shivers and his cock is seeping even more precum at the thought. His hole and cock twitching just at the thought. Hole already aching for something more. But he didn’t want to use any toys this time. He wanted to push himself with his own hands. He wanted to feel skin and warmth.

“Wooyoung-ie, you know what we want~”

“Wooyoung, be good and give yourself a finger”

“You’re being such a good boy, do what they say”

“But don’t touch anything else. Just your hole”

Wooyoung is craning his head back with a whine. Before uttering a soft ‘okay’ and he brings his fingers to his mouth. Two of them, shoving them past plush lips and sucking on them slowly at first…Before it’s a slobbery mess, drool coming down the corner of his mouth.

It’s then that a bold and devious idea crosses the others mind…

“Mmm- San~…Mm, Atiny…San-ah~…” The other suddenly begins to moan around his fingers. The list rushing straight to his head as he’s loud and vulgar with his actions. Drooling going down his hand as he soaked his fingers.

“Fuck. Wooyoung-“

“Wooyoung-ie if I was there-“

“🤤🤤🤤”

“💞💞💞”

“Such a good boy look at that mess”

“🥵🥵🥵”

“San, are you seeing this???”

“San-ah, Wooyoung is being so bad because you’re here now”

“Sannie???”

Wooyoung couldn’t help but smirk a bit around his fingers. Seeing San’s sudden silence in the chat, he felt like he had earned himself a win. Now taking his sopping fingers from his mouth, astring of saliva following, as he brings them down to play with his hole. Circling one of the digits around his rim. Watching the comments roll in even faster. Now begging him to put a finger in.

“I’m supposed to be begging you, Atiny~…But okay, okay I’ll do it.” Wooyoung promises in a breathless chuckle before slowly slipping a finger inside. Brows knotting slightly and mouth gaping to let a moan spill from his lips.

He’s fucking himself now.

Working a single finger in and out, nice and slow for his viewers. Glossy eyes coming open to watch the next string of comments…Still not seeing San…Instead. He hears his door suddenly open, and with a gasp, he slams his legs shut, before he realizes who it is.

“Wooyoung-?”

“What’s wrong-?”

“Who came in!?”

“😖 Oh no he’s in trouble”

“Baby??? 🥺”

But it’s soon they see the huge nervous grin gathering at Wooyoung’s lips as he glances to the camera then back to the figure that entered his room. Now spreading his legs again. Biting his lips as his eyes stayed glued towards the direction of his door. Continuing what he was doing before. Eyes glued to whoever had entered the room.

“Come see your fans~…” He moans. “They want to know who couldn’t help themselves-“

It’s then that the fan are finally able to see San. Making his way into view as he takes a seat on the couch next to Wooyoung. Immediately taking a hold of the others chin and claiming his lips in a messy kiss. For a moment it’s just that. A hungry, desperate exchange of lips as Wooyoung’s hands never stopped touching himself. His eyes though were open, glancing to the comments as he smirked into the kiss before gently pushing the other away with the hand that was previously on his cock.

“D-don’t be rude…Greet my fans.” He says and San mutters something before looking to the camera with a smirk. Licking his lips before running fingers through his hair.

“Hello everyone~ It’s better to see me here right?” He asks and his eyes are immediately scanning the comments with a smile.

“SAN?!”

“That was so hot..Do you guys kiss a lot?!”

“Sannie, I won’t be able to make it much longer with you here…”

San chuckles, glancing back to see Wooyoung who was back in his own world. Head tilted back against the couch as his hand was slow around his cock. Working himself open with a second finger now.

“We kiss sometimes…But not like That- Not in a Long time…Wooyoung gets shy. But it’s cute~”

As San was having his little conversation with the viewers, he can’t help but laugh hearing a strained ‘shut up’ from the one behind him. Now licking his mouth again as he moves back to the couch.

“Should we help him cum?”

San looks to the comments- And feels his face heats up at the last he reads.

“Of course we’re going to let him cum!”

“Babyboy deserves it”

“Sannie, he’s so cute, you heard him~”

“What do you wanna do with him, Sannie? 🤭”

“What do I wanna do with him..?” San repeats and he slowly looks to Wooyoung, who is now raising his head from the couch, looks at San with anxious eyes.

He can see something flicker in San’s eyes.

Something dangerous.

But at the same time the same anxiousness.

It’s then that Wooyoung retracts his hands, now moving to press his lips to San’s for a moment before moving to whisper in his ear…

“Hey!!”

“Wooyoung-ie, Tell us too!”

“:( that’s not fairrrr”

“Maybe they’ll tell us later”

“Wooyoung is such a tease-“

In the moments of the fans comments rolling in, the two are changing positions. San taking Wooyoung’s place on the couch as he pushes his sweatpants down just far enough to show off his erection. Wooyoung now moving to straddle San’s lap in the reverse cowgirl position. Carefully straddling the others length so that it’s nestled between his cheeks. The smaller immediately but slowly beginning to rock his hips. Causing a groan to escape from his lips. San’s hands immediately coming up up to grip at the others waist. Slowly exploring the smallers body, traveling over every dip and curve before gripping his thighs. Teasing up and down along them before one of his hands finally comes to wrap around Wooyoung’s length.

“H-ha…Fuck~…Y-yes…” Wooyoung sighs out as he told his head back with a soft moan. Letting his eyes fall closed as he feels the soft hand, firmly jerking his cock.

“Does it feel good? Y-Yeah?” San can be more heard than seen speaking with ragged breathes as his free hand continues feeling up the other.

“Mm, feels good…” He then lifts his head to bring his attention back to the comments. “I-Is this good? Are you guys okay with th-this?”

“Woo, baby is that a real question?”

“I’m about to finish twice because of you two~”

“Please, please let us see a replay”

“I can’t stop touching myself”

Wooyoung can’t help but give a breathless laugh before turning his head to relay the things the fans are saying. Completely amused. Excited. Aroused. He felt absolutely exposed to his viewers to his friend and he loved it. The feeling of being craved and watched by so many eyes…In the moment, it was the greatest high he could ever imagine. In private, yeah they would help each other. Kiss. Get creative. But never have they done it in an audience before…

“I’m glad ATINY our enjoying themselves…Getting to cum and feel good because of us~…Our own little good girls and boys~” San adds and even though he’s mentioning the fans the words have Wooyoung’s body shivering.

“Wooyoung-ah?”

“H-Huh?”

“Can I put one of my fingers in..? Maybe…”

Wooyoung’s mind short circuits at the question. San’s fingers inside him. They’d never done that before…But how could he complain? Biting his lip only thinking for a moment, he spreads his legs before looking up to see the comments wanting the same thing.

“D-do it…Wanna cum for ATINY…from your fingers…Th-they want to see it too.” He says in almost a whisper as he squirms and readjusts in the others lap. Giving him a better position to let his fingers meet his hole.

But he doesn’t feel his fingers there, no.

Instead there’s two fingers prodding at his lips and Wooyoung is parting plump folds to take in the two digits. His gaze set on the camera as he slowly works his tongue around the other fingers. Moaning shamelessly around them as San’s hand continues working his length. San’s fingers fondling and pressing against Wooyoung’s tongue as the sensation and the sound of it all of course got him even harder. It’s then that San’s hand now is picking up the pace when he notices the change in his pitch…and the pace of his hips. Wooyoung’s ass gave his cock more attention the more SAN’s hand jerked and played with his cock for the camera. Peering over to see what he could of the comments and loving that the audience was getting the best view there was: Wooyoung’s face. His cock. But the fans couldn’t quite see his hole anymore. Not with it rubbing against San’s length the way it was.

“Wooyoung~ The fans want to hear you get more vocal~…You’ve called their name a lot…Say my name.” San bites his lip just at the thought, now slowly pulling his fingers from the other mouth and Wooyoung shakes his head.

Only grinds his ass harder against San’s length. Making the other throw his head back with a curse, and tugging on Wooyoung’s cock in a particular way that has him giving a similar reaction.

“F-fuck… Wooyoung.. Please- J-just once…Say my name, please…”

Despite San’s obvious begging, he’s ditching the others length and grabbing a handful of his balls. Roughly tugging and fondly them. Smacking at them before doing the same to his swaying, weeping cock.

“Haa~ Agh~ Agh God- F-fuck- Oh~” Wooyoung squirmed in the others lap. Hips shamelessly bucking into his hand and grinding back against the leaking cock that was nestled between his cheeks.

“Just say my name already- Fuck, man cmon~ Cmon Wooyoung- Cmon…”

As if with emphasis on each word, San is thrusting his hips more, chasing his own high as he fucks himself between Wooyoung’s asscheeks. Relentlessly abusing the others cock still. Wooyoung still denying the other What he wanted as he muffles his own moans tucking his lips in.

“Waaah, Sannie is getting his revenge ~”

“Is he though? Wooyoung still won’t say his name 🤭”

“Wooyoung sounds so pretty either way~ I’m so jealous~”

“Sannie looks like he’s about to go in!!!”

San notices the comment and smiles. “Thank you you’re right. Maybe if I put it inside him-“ San groans slowing the pace of his hips, now moving a hand up to grab a handful of the others hair, yanking his head back. “Is that what I need to do, Woo? Use my cock like your little machine?”

Followed by the yelp he made when his hair was pulled, and San finally shoving those two wet fingers inside of him- Wooyoung whimpers and there it is:

“S-San~…San, San, San~…”

San’s name slipping from his lips in the most pathetic and delicious tone.

“HE SAID IT!”

“😭 I’m really jealous now.”

“Oh Wooyoung-ie do it again you’re so cute~!”

“Just let it feel good”

San’s action stutter for a moment as he sees the sudden highlighted familiar user pop up in the spam of comments- It wasn’t long before the fans themselves were confirming the other presence for them.

“Seonghwa 🫶🫶🫶!!!”

“Seonghwa, you like to watch?!”

“Shhh~ Atiny I love you💞, but let’s focus on them. Don’t miss it.”

“😭 Awh!!”

“Wooyoung’s face Looks so cute right now!”

“Wooyoung actually gets shy when we watch~ I can’t help it.”

“He’s so loud, I like to see what he’s doing”

“Look at how cute~ San is doing a good job.”

San can’t help but smirk as he sees the comments. Or the arousal that’s ripping through every nerve.

“Do you see that Wooyoung? Seonghwa thinks it’s cute too..He’s watching us~ Watching you. Th-the way you sound- Fuck~…C-Cum for them Wooyoung…”

Wooyoung’s mind was a haze. Sans voice almost muffled in his ears, but it was those very words that were throwing him closer to the edge. San’s hand tight around his cock. His fingers mercilessly working his hole, shoving themselves knuckles deep again again. And they were all watching. His fans. His members even…Everyone. Everyone was watching him. Seonghwa for sure was watching him. But who else…?

“C’mon Wooyoung~…Cmon baby, be a good boy~ Wanna see you cum- P-please…So close..Fuck- Fucking cum, Woo, fucking make a mess on all over my fingers…Want to taste it.”

That was his breaking point. With his hands coming around to grip the red locks behind him, he’s crying out in a string of high moans. San’s teeth sinking into his neck without a second thought and it’s the prettiest cry he’s ever heard from Wooyoung when the smaller cums all over his hand. Panting raggedly as he bucks his hips. San helping milk every last drop from him. Not being able to tell from all the sweat that had gathered there, San’s own release was running down the smaller’s back, slowly grinding his softening cock against the mess.

“That was amazing~”

“Oh…Oh wow…”

“I feel dizzy…San, Wooyoung that was amazing…”

“You two were so cute~”

“Hongjoong heard you too”

“They were so loud, that’s what I love”

“So fucking pretty 💞💞💞”

“You should do more lives together, please 😭”

With exhausted smiles, Wooyoung and San read through the comments. Wooyoung resting back to chest in San’s lap. San’s hands still lazily roaming Wooyoung’s body, before he’s taking out his own phone to begin scrolling through comments from his own subscription. The two of them eventually taking turns getting up and going to clean themselves off before inevitably deciding a shower was the better option.

“Are you going to shower together!?”

“Woosannie shower time?”

“Post pictures pleeeease~”

“Just one!”

Wooyoung giggle as he finished reading the comments. Running his fingers through his hair one more time as he entertained a few more questions.

“Maybe~ We’ll see. I have to go clean up now. Thank you all for coming and spending time with me today.” He says before blowing a kiss to the camera, then leaning to whisper. “And for bringing San too.”

And with that, he giggles before closing out the live. Now making his way to the shower that he did in fact share with San. A little while later the two entertaining the fans requests and posting a picture of the two of them in the shower. Just the view of each others hands on the others cocks.

They finished up and San was going to go back to his room after chatting with Wooyoung for a bit- But a soft knock at the door would interrupt their conversation…

#ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez san #ateez wooyoung #kpop smut #ateez hard hours #ateez x fans #ateez camboys

[dizzy-after-dark]

Cauterized | Steve Rogers

BOOM MIC DROP: SMUT FOR THE END OF THE YEAR! Y'all didn't think I would not post once this year, did you. Well, here it is. I TRIED! Mwah; see you in 2024!

Tags: Angst (not really but yeah), SMUT, fluff

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Notes: UHHHHH 18+ BUCKOS; this is a continuation of Ignorant, which is the first part and angsty as FUCK but a personal fave of mine if I do say so myself; been really thinking about finishing my requests from over a year ago for Dinner At Dizzy's on my other account, @dizzydancingdreamer (masterlist linked if you're feeling peckish)

Warnings (what to expect, ig): oral (f recieving), fingering, sex (???), uhhhm lack of descriptive writing from a rusty author, sappiness, swearing, bad metaphors, shower sex, alcohol consumption (BARELY), size kink, over-use of the word "Stevie"

Word Count: 4.6k

She pushes the door closed, turning the shower on lazily. Her muscles ache as she twists the knob all the way to the left. Somewhere, sometime she was told about cauterization. You can seal wounds closed with fire— forcibly fuse the skin back together. She has no cuts. Nothing to fuse. And only hot water. However, maybe stepping into the scalding stream might fix the part of her brain that keeps replaying it all, over and over. 

Baby I— 

If anything, it might numb her. She would take that too right now. Hence the bottle on the counter, partially drunk and already open. She takes the first swig, the liquid like fuel to the inferno raging in her stomach, burning the rest of her in the process. The taste is acrid— she’s never been much of a drinker. She just wants to forget it all. Setting it down with a clunk, she strips out of grimey shirt, letting it puddle at her feet. 

Looking at the material, which at one point was a stark white but will now forever be a dingy gray, she laughs. Not really but, yeah, kind of— one of those half amused huffs, anyway. A pity laugh, for the state of her life. That shirt is practically trash. Even if she had the time, energy, or resources to wash it, there’s no way it’ll ever be the same. 

She should just throw it out. 

Is she even talking about the shirt anymore?

She kicks it into the corner, hands falling to the button of her jeans, swollen knuckles screaming as she fails a few times to push the little metal circle through the loop.

“Goddamnit,” she mutters to herself, and to the ghosts, and the spider she saw in the corner when she came in but didn’t have the heart to make the latter as well. 

She’s already made too many ghosts. 

“I, uh, I can help?”

None of those ghosts have ever answered before, though. 

Whirling around, fists balling in front of her face, she readies herself in less than a breaths time to send said ghost straight back to the grave—

“Woah, easy there, baby—”

Only to find Steve, his baby blues wide and a tad panicked but his hand nevertheless peeking through the crack of the door, reaching for her. Mind glazing over with confusion and, well, a fair bit of something russian and label-less, she blinks up at him and the damn door. She closed that— she remembers closing it… right? 

Her eyes flick down and the fire in her belly kindles a little more. 

“Are you kidding me?” She groans, the exhaustion an unwelcome guest in the cavern of her chest.  

His boot, right there in the doorway, holding the measly wooden traitor open. She never heard the damn click. Didn’t even bother to listen for it. Rookie mistake, honestly. She can’t even be mad, really. 

“Please just let me help.” Steve pushes past the door, both arms now extended towards her, but he doesn’t touch her yet. 

He’s waiting. She stays silent. Partly because she has no idea what to say— or what she wants— and partly because he hates it. He absolutely, agonizingly hates when she gives him the silent treatment. She watches his jaw tick, lips pressing together until they go white, and there’s a sick part of her that relishes in the cool satisfaction rushing down her spine. 

You made me like this.

But there’s also a part of her that mourns with him when he clears his throat, crystal eyes flooding over, liquid and glassy, and lowers his arms slightly. Not all the way. He’s hopeful, maybe. America’s sweetheart is always hopeful, that’s one of the things she fell in love with him for. 

That’s still Steve— her Steve. 

“I know—” Steve swallows, “I messed up. I just— you’re hurt, baby. Lemme’ help.”  

She huffs— why is it so fucking complicated? Why can’t they just be normal?

She is hurt. Nothing needs cauterizing but there’s no denying her mottled skin, blue-ish under the crappy motel bathroom lights. Her hands throb, joints screaming at her— when she turns to the mirror, she almost gags at the slight bald patch behind her right ear— fuck, that one had really stung. Absolutely ridiculous the way some people fight these days. 

Her silence is deafening. 

She wants to sob. It’s right there, in the hollow of her throat— she wants to scream. Maybe not at him but in general. She used to live in a penthouse, with all her friends, and the love of her life. Now what? She used to get hurt like this back then too but now it feels purposeless— what are they even doing this for if they have nothing. Have no one. It made sense when she still had him. 

Meeting his gaze in the mirror— disappearing a bit into fogged up glass but there regardless— she still has him. Kind of. But she still doesn’t say anything when she turns back to face him. The frown carved into her face feels vile— deep and disgusting and entirely real— but she can’t make it go away. She can’t stop the sniffle, either. Why can’t she just tell him she misses him?

“Fuck.” 

It’s mumbled under his breath. The Captain America, standing in some rundown wreck of a place off some lonely highway, is swearing. Because of her. Is this hell? It feels like hell. 

But, no, it can’t be, because his hands are so, so gentle as they cup her cheeks, thumbs softly dancing over the bruises, half assessing, half trying. Trying to do what, she doesn’t know. Wipe them away? Commit them to memory? She leans into his touch regardless, conceding ever so slightly. She won’t say it, but he can help. There isn’t a universe in which she would truly deny him. 

The first tear that falls isn’t hers, but his, landing on her forehead right before he buries his face in her hair, wrapping those supersoldier arms around her, trying and, well, failing not to crush her in the process. The tenderness in her broken body is worth it, though, because he smells like home, even if tinged with gunpowder and war. 

“I am so sorry—” he whispers, heartbeat erratic under her ear, chest heaving for breath— “I am so sorry I brought this on you. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”  

Complicated. She fists his t-shirt as hard as she can— fists in until her hands go numb. It’s not fair how complicated it has to be for them. 

Steve didn’t throw her into the fight, didn’t slam his fist into her eye, or rip her hair out by the handful. Steve didn’t even make her come with him when he left; that was entirely her choice. But he did lose his mind a little bit. Power tripped a little too hard. Focused so much on keeping them all safe that he missed the part where he was just supposed to hug her— and that’s what sucked most— but he is now, right?

That has to count for something? 

He pulls back and her fingers tighten, steeling, tensing. He can’t go, even if she isn’t sure what they are anymore. 

The agony in his eyes when he draws the line from her balled fists holding on for dear fucking life to her own, misty gaze is indescribable. “Baby I don’t know how to fix this. I want to, I—” he clears his throat again and her frown carves even further into her skin, eyebrows drawing together— “I want to so fucking bad.”

He plants his forehead against hers and it aches, the warmth of his skin. “I don’t want to make it worse. I need you to tell me how to help.” 

There’s a stinging in her throat where the words simply don’t manifest. What the fuck is she supposed to say? Nothing, at all, really, because she doesn’t even know how to fix her and she’s not mad so there’s nothing to fix… but isn’t there? Isn’t there something between them that desperately needs mending? Isn’t she mad? 

Is it anger? 

Or is it something much more primal. 

No, there are no words she can tell him. She could show him, though. Maybe that will work.

Letting his shirt go, she watches the breath catch in his chest, stuck and frantic. She knows that feeling well— that icy desperation to keep holding on no matter what. But she’s only grabbing his hands, not leaving him, and he’ll see that soon so she continues to drag him towards the stupid, little button that her useless fingers couldn’t seem to undo. In hindsight, maybe they were just waiting for him. 

Realizing, his forehead is off hers quickly, eyes seeking hers. “What? I don’t—” She flattens his palms against her stomach, engulfing the button, and he breathes the last word out— “understand.” 

Her brows raise, cheeks still on fire but now also burning— yes you do. 

“Are you sure?” He asks but there’s a little click— the same one she hadn’t heard earlier— as his boot clad foot kicks the door properly shut, and she’s pretty sure he knows just how sure she is.

All it takes is her thumbs on his, prodding them towards her arch nemesis— damn you, Levi jeans— and the soldier is moving, not rough in his quick actions, but determined. The button is no match for Steve Rogers on a regular day, but today? Now that he has a goal? A starting place? The button may as well have disintegrated under his fingers. 

Her own hands fly to his shoulders, clinging to him as he tugs the blasted jeans off her legs, trying the best she can not to topple over with the sheer force of him. Material pooling at her feet, his palms smooth so slowly back up her now bare legs, rising goosebumps in their wake. She hasn’t been touched in ages— she feels kind of like an animal waking up from hibernation, disorientated and hungry. 

Grabbing at her hips suddenly, her ass is on the cool countertop before she even has the chance to get dizzy. Spreading her thighs with his own, he works on her bra next— this faded, hole ridden thing that if she wasn’t so engulfed in searing, licking desire, she’d probably be embarrassed about. But it’s gone so soon that she doesn’t have a chance and replaced instead with two, bulky hands that entirely engulf her breasts. 

They squeeze her skillfully— with purpose. Thumbs swiping delicious circles around her nipples, flicking this way and that, exactly how he knows she likes it— exactly the way that should have her as a mewling heap in his hold. But she’s not— she’s contained, even as her very skin thrums alive with anticipation. Is this revenge or is it just fucking complicated?

She can’t decide so instead she bites the moan clawing at her throat into small enough pieces to swallow, all the while tuning into something dark that sparks in his ever watchful gaze. 

She’s caught— he gets it now. 

“Really, baby?” He muses, palming her, squeezing just hard enough to give the touch a slight bite. His tone has her feeling like a deer in his headlights— like a freight train is barrelling directly at her and there’s nowhere to go— and she squeezes her thighs around him, welcoming the collision. “You think I won’t work for it?” 

She only blinks at him. Once… twice… 

Her panties are dropped somewhere into the abyss, long forgotten with the rest of her clothes, and his knees thud heavily against the tiled floor. Replacing his body, his head now hovers right in front of a different button, golden hair tickling her sensitive skin as he pulls her legs over his thick shoulders. His skin is warm but not as much as his balmy breath which hits her clit, teasing her into a mess, hands curling around the edge of the counter. 

Come on, Steve. 

But, no, he doesn’t give in to her just yet. First, he turns to her inner thigh, sucking her skin into his mouth with bruising pressure before letting it go with a pop. He peers up— nothing. Moving to the other one, he whispers quick kisses over her sex but never lingers, only biting into her flesh once more once across her mound, teeth almost teasing a whimper from her this time but no, she’s not budging. 

That doesn’t mean he isn’t driving her crazy. Inside, she screams— she craves. C’mon baby just give it to me. Outwardly, her hands drunkenly find his hair, tugging at his soft locks. Now, now, now she chants furiously.

He unseals his lips from her thigh, peering up, less dangerous and back to being her ever hopeful boyfriend— is her her boyf— He kisses her folds, spongy lips lingering a moment, rendering her blank and feverish. Angelic— he’s angelic. From under his long lashes he all but begs her, his dark eyes starving and wanting, but his hands are so soft on her hips, massaging deep into her. It’s this mixture of puppy dog pleading and a knowing of sorts— he knows she’s going to cave eventually.

How does he do that? 

“Words? Please?”

She only pouts and, again, the switch flips. “Fine.”

The word is punctuated with the warm, wet stripe he licks up her center, flicking his tongue languidly over her clit. For as rushed as he’d started this mission, he’s truly never been one to speed through his meals, preferring instead to devour her slowly— expertly— tasting her thoroughly like he has all the time in the world. Meanwhile her body pulses, teetering dangerously already on the knife-sharp edge of too much and too little as he masterfully carves her out. 

Her hands, which had moments ago tried to pull him closer, now use his hair as handles to keep herself from toppling off the counter when he slides her closer to him, burying his face fully into her heat. Heels digging into his back, she watches the spot where his shirt rides up intently, consumed not only by the harsh sucking on her clit but also the tanned, muscled skin peeking out and then disappearing below his own jeans, taunting her. Why hadn’t she taken it off him first? 

She doesn’t have time to think much more about it though because he’s ravenous and she may as well be ice cream, sweet and sticky, melting all over him, dripping down the sides of his face and fingers as they begin prodding against her. They tease, pushing into her but not quite far enough— hard enough.  

His gaze on her is overpowering— it’s deliberate. 

“Y’know,” he speaks against her, the vibrations making her tense, “you can just tell me what you want ‘and I'll do it.”

Her mouth is like sandpaper— her brain, uncooperative. This push and pull is becoming lethal, the next few pokes of his tongue honey slow and spine jolting. Please— she wants to beg. She’s so empty. So, so, achingly empty. Would his fingers even be enough? At this point, it’s as though he would need to crawl into her very chest to fill her up the way she needs to be. How could her words even convey something so needy? 

“Anything, baby. Whatever you want.” 

They can’t, so they don’t, but for the sounds she refuses to make, he doubles in his own, moaning his frustrations right against her. If he can’t make her say anything, he damn sure is going to make her do something. That’s probably why he finally caves, pushing his fingers in to the hilt, and she was stupid to think they couldn’t fill her, the slight burn of them not at all foreign but definitely intense. 

As they bury themselves in her over and over and over again, she bucks against his hand, chasing the start of a little ball of electricity growing in the pit of her stomach, getting higher and higher with every twist of his fingers. Combined with the incessant flick of his tongue— she’s a goner. Stifling the moan, her teeth find home in her lip, biting so hard her mouth gains a slight tang that excites her even more. What’s she even doing? 

Wouldn’t it be more fun if she just let loose? Isn’t that what’s been missing the whole time? The fun? 

When she sees the glint in his piercing stare— impish despite everything they’ve been through— she gets it. It’s hopeless— she is and they are but they’re together and the fun isn’t gone— she’s done. He earned it.

“Stevie—”  she finally cries, animalistic; it doesn’t sound like his name but he must know it is because, even with the intense throbbing consuming her entire body, she can feel his shoulders soften under her thighs— “please don’t stop, I’m so close!”

“That’s it baby,” he coos against her clit, voice raw, compliant as he continues to pump his fingers in time to her squirming, “that’s my girl. I missed that pretty voice of yours.” 

At what point the first orgasm turns into a second, she isn’t sure. It’s all one big blur of her whiny moans, wanton and liquid body, and his hushed prayers against her flushed skin, tongue lapping relentlessly against her. More baby; I know you can give me more. She doesn’t so much hear them as she does become them, absorbing them into her skin. That’s it angel— so good, so good for me.

She can feel him drinking in her mumbled, jagged noises, some words but others mere syllables, coaxed out of her by tongue and fingers all the same. Steve— honey— mmph, fuck, right there— oh my— the words pour out now, dam broken beyond repair, and for some reason, or maybe a lack thereof, it spurs her on even more, a freed woman if ever there was one— 

“Oh my god, Stevie!”

It’s maddening— he’s maddening. 

He’s relentless. 

It isn’t until she yanks his still-eager mouth away from her, stomach iron-tense from way too much overstimulation, does he slowly draw his hand reluctantly back from her shuddering body. His other arm unwinds from where it’s been snaked around her knee, anchoring her to him throughout the duration of his worship. Now pushing him upright, holding him just near enough to where she can hear his labored breaths but not feel them, she shivers, cold as ice without his heat. 

He stares down at her, unmoving, and her heart jumps in her chest. She doesn’t understand— he’s just standing there while she shudders, breathless. His shirt is stretched, no doubt from her pulling at it, and in noticing the damage she remembers how she’s completely naked and he’s completely not. Exposed doesn’t even begin to touch how she feels. 

She wraps her arms around her chest, knees drawing up to tuck under her chin. “Steve?” 

She’d forgotten what it felt like to constantly have him next to her— to have his furnace like warmth melting into her skin almost every minute. Now that she’s had her first real taste of him again, she’s de-acclimated to being alone. She needs him.

“C’mere,” she begs, shaking and a bit confused, why isn’t he touching her still, “please, Stevie, come back.” 

When her fingers finally swipe against his shirt, barely snagging it, he flinches, coming back to her. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean—” 

She flings herself at him, heart off kilter and erratic in her chest as her lips press against his, swallowing his apologies and hoping beyond anything else that he just catches her, like he always does. He does, kissing her back fervently— reverently. His tongue, tinted with her essence, scoops into her mouth the same way he had been between her thighs. She welcomes the way he takes charge, knowing he holds her against him with every ounce of strength he has.

“—’m sorry,” he pants into her mouth, clearly not satisfied with the success of her attack, “so, so sorry baby.” 

He repeats the words deliriously. Presses them into her hair and against her temple, on her chin and both her cheeks. He especially feeds them to her, word for word, against her lips, soft at first and then rough, frenzied. He’s not talking about right now. He’s still back in that apartment; the fallen angel amongst the rubble, wings too broken to just leave it. 

It’s not complicated. And it’s not revenge, because she could never make him feel worse than he already does, nor would she want to. So, in between kisses and apologies, she answers.

“I know, Stevie.”   

“It’s ok— we’re ok, Stevie.” 

“Steve, stop— I love you!”

He stops. He sets her down, bare feet planting unsteady against the ground. He steps back. What?

“Stevie?” She questions, already moving forward, but his arms, sweeping over his head, towing his shirt up and off, halt her in her tracks. 

Oh.  

 Oh. 

This time, when she says his name it's only a breathy moan, fingers searching for his belt loops and hooking him towards her. In the time it takes for her hands to find the button— this one, thankfully, popping open immediately— there must be a god somewhere who didn’t abandon them in the rubble— he’s back on her, one hand carefully threading through her hair, dragging her mouth back to his, while the other pushes the rest of his clothes to the ground.

“I love you, I love— ah, fuck,” he hisses as her hand wraps around him, thumb brushing over his velvety tip.

For the first time, she smiles against his mouth, calm. “Language, Rogers.”

He pulls back, one neat eyebrow flicked up, but there’s humor in his eyes— no more tension. No more worry. Just fun. He leans down, nuzzling his chin down the side of her face, breath fanning her ear. Her hand stutters as it tugs on him, dragging up and down. He’s so hard— it’s been so damn long. 

“Thought I was Stevie, baby?” It’s an absent minded tease, blush lips parted even after the fact, glued to the way she touches him. 

In turn she watches his face, crowned in a mussed up halo of gold, some of which sticks to his forehead but most falling at every which angle, a product of her thighs sealing themselves around him. She can’t say that she’s never seen him this disheveled but she’ll never get used to it. He’s perfect— she makes him so messy. 

Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one enjoying herself, though, if the heaviness of him between her fingers, rutting into her palm is anything to go by. She squeezes harder, testing something, and he groans something almost inhuman against her neck. Guttural. He’s so close already. It fuels her like nothing else, tickling the part of her that just wants to please. She’s making reparations, too. Speeding up, she works him faster. Come on, honey.  

“Stevie—” she echoes and the next thing she knows, he’s pulling her off him, pushing her towards the steam which billows out from behind the curtain. 

From the moment her feet touch the warm, wet surface of the shower floor, everything is a blur. The water sprays over her harshly, but only for a moment, before he overpowers it with his own, massive body, just as searing against her skin. She registers the slick splat of her back against the wall, a grunt— missed this, baby, and her own feral howl as he slams into her. There’s no waiting, no tiptoeing, only his cock sealing them together furiously once more. 

One of her legs is hiked up impossibly far, hinging near his hip where his hand crushes her to him. The other leg holds her up— barely— heel raised, toes splaying for grip as she reaches higher. He’s just so big— so tall and so thick. So impossible to adequately open herself to without him fully lifting her but she wants to try so she does her best to meet his brutal pace, clinging around his neck desperately. 

If his fingers had filled her entirely, his cock is almost unbearable. She relishes it, though, the way she can almost feel him in her damn throat with each and every drag. It’s mesmerizing, the way there’s no need for adjustment— for remembering. He knows her body like it’s his own and it makes her drool with pleasure.   

The slapping of their skin together proves to be louder than the rush of the water, but not more so than Steve whose mouth is working over time, ladeling praises directly into her ear, soaked, stubbly chin grating deliciously against her temple.

“You look so pretty baby,” he hums, staring mesmerized at their bodies to where he slips in and out of her, “ look at you taking me so well.”  

And she does. 

It’s a lewd notion, the way she can see exactly where he is inside her by the way her belly ripples with his plunges, but one that makes her gasp nonetheless, spasming around him which is also visible to both of them. Loosening one of her hands from its vice grip on his shoulder, he places it on the exact spot, urging her to feel just how big he is. With every sloppy push and pull, she does feel it, and it sends her reeling.

“See that?” He rasps, and she can only nod, mouth agape enough for some of the water falling off his hair to drip into it. 

She swallows it, tongue somehow so, so dry despite everything. Her nerves are on fire, everything so much slower than it should be. 

The agonizing pull of his hand on hers, dragging her own fingers under his to toy with her clit. 

The little circles that take hours to complete but nurture the current running through her veins regardless. 

The fucking torturous in and out of his cock— taunting her, languidly pounding her for what feels like an eternity— she can’t think. She’s in the water but she feels under it, too, foggy and pent up. She just wants to cum—

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna—” 

“—Stevie!” 

She breaks through the sluggish pleasure into electric and all consuming waves, head falling against the wall as his hips stutter against hers, pumping once, then twice, before falling still. Each time, she clenches harder, babbling something gritty and foul and incomprehensible. Something along the lines of holy fucking shit baby but its blurred with searing, pulsing pleasure.

There’s stars behind her eyes and steam in her nose as he falls against her chest, sopping hair tickling her hypersensitive skin. Him pulling feels like what two exposed wires touching must— all sparky and hot. It’s too much. 

“Mmm, careful baby,” she mumbles and he chuckles. 

“Of course.” 

The rest is truly a lull. Steve doesn’t bother gathering their clothes, only her, carrying her limp body to the bed and carefully setting her under the covers, dripping and all, before joining her. If she weren’t so sleepy, she would have scolded him. But she is and her eyes are refusing to stay open, let alone give him that look. It’s all she can do = to seek his warm skin once more, slithering against his body and rooting herself there. 

Cauterized, or something like it. 

#Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel smut #MCU smut #Avengers smut #dizzy is BACK #did you miss me?

[hai7ani]

WHAT'S A HEART WORTH? haitani rindou

nsfw (smut) mdni, nothing happens

home collection | playlist

part i / my baby here on earth, showed me what my heart was worth.

Rindou does not understand why people would not want to go home after work.

Like the accountant who stays at the office long after clock out hour. He's finishing up someone else's paperwork willingly while actively ignoring the constant buzz of his phone that lights up a photo of a woman showing up peace signs paired with a beautiful smile which only says 'girl[space]friend' but not her name. He shuts off his phone and continues his paperwork instead of heading home (and also earning free OT cash that he'll probably just spend on some Asahi during payday) . . .

Or the newlywed who slips off the silver band on his ring finger and greets the receptionist with a bright smile -- Ishikawa-san, or Riko-chan, as he likes to call her -- the moment he steps into the front doors of the office. He enjoys leaning on the counter and telling her about the plans he and his friends have made for her that night on a random morning while stuffing the promise with his wife deep into the pocket of his perfectly ironed suit.

"Work's been rough lately, ya wanna grab a drink? Release some steam? Oh, it's just a few of us guys who are my friends, and you. Bring some of your friends as well, yeah? Please come, treat's on us. We're going to Shangri-La after work, 'kay?"

It's especially the father with a polaroid of his 6 year old son and 11 year old daughter that both are not smiling in tucked away in his wallet who rushes off to an izakaya or some club somewhere in the middle of Kabukichō straight after work with a bunch of his lame and nasty ol' colleagues who are somehow also married men. Just drinking and smoking the night away with dirty minds that think of nothing but sticking their dicks into the pussies of younger, sweeter women working by the bar.

While Haitani Rindou is on his way to clock in to work, he passes by the reception table. Ishikawa-san sees him and gives a small bow with a professional smile, before swiftly returning to the conversation with the newlywed. She bends over the desk and starts fiddling with the bright orange tie hanging off the newlywed's collar. There's a name-tag pinned to his tie that reads Ito Haruki.

Ito-kun, or as Ishikawa-san likes to call him -- Haruki-senpai -- is leaning his head on his left arm, cheek squashed a little as he's shamelessly ogling at the loose button that's about to burst open on Ishikawa-san's blouse.

There's a few people in line ahead of Rindou who are clocking in as well. He supposes it is no harm to listen in on their conversation. They weren't even trying to be discreet about it, anyway.

"It's a nice tie, senpai. Where'd you get it from?"

Rindou catches the sudden change in Ito Haruki's demeanour. "Oh. Just . . . Went out shopping last weekend and got it for myself. Looks real nice, ain't it?"

Liar.

Rindou and you were out shopping two weeks ago when he spots the same man holding the hand of his new bride as they went searching for neckties together in the Aeon department store. "I think this'll look great on you, Haruki, no?" His wife brings the displayed tie up to his neck and smile.

"Looks bomb, honey."

When admiring himself in the mirror, he sees the B&M department's Haitani Rindou looking at him from behind. The two men catches eye in the reflection. Ito-kun was sweating buckets, afraid of getting his cover blown off, but you suddenly tugged on Rindou's sleeve, breaking his attention and asking for his opinion on the dress that you were looking to buy for work.

He turns around and leaves with you, not looking at Ito-kun nor his wife as he pretends like he doesn't know the married couple in the same store shopping for neckties, nor the scandalous, nasty things the husband has been doing at work.

And right now, while he's waiting in line to clock in for work, he's still pretending like he knows nothing. There's no point in saying he knows Ito's lying, anyway. It doesn't benefit him one bit.

But to Ito Haruki, Rindou running his mouth to people and letting everyone find out he's been married this whole time to a woman he does not love . . .

And letting his wife find out he has been openly bringing women and girls to hotel rooms and screwing them with his mates behind her back.

It's a risk he cannot take.

Ito-kun who is now standing tall and straight calls out to Rindou, seemingly trying to butter his colleague up to keep his mouth shut. If he starts getting close with me, there's no way he'll snitch. He'll understand.

"Yo, Haitani. Ya free tonight? We're going up to Shangri-La with a few of my friends in Chiyoda. We're having a few ladies over as well, if yer' interested." Ito-kun wiggles his eyebrows and Ishikawa-san stifles a laugh with the back of her hand.

Rindou does not spare both of them a glance.

"I'm married."

He says it like it's meant to be. He's a married man who's actually a decent human being with bills to pay, love to give and a wife to go home to. You just wouldn't understand. And he moves forward with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Tch, fuckin' snob. He's married? So am-" Haruki stops himself from running his mouth any further with a cough. "Who does he think he is? Just 'cause he's on the line for some promotion? I can do better than him, can't I, Riko-chan? I'm in HR, after all."

"Of course you can, Haruki-senpai. You're the best, after all . . . At all things."

With their lewd whispering and hushed laughters echoing in the space behind him, he slots his employee card into the machine and thinks of all the married men with a wife and children waiting for them to come home and watch Why Did You Come to Japan? on the TV together.

Haitani Rindou could never understand them.

And perhaps it's just him . . .

Guess it really is just him.

Him who thinks there's nothing more relieving than going straight home to his wife, his family, instead of wasting another second at work talking to idiots he don't share the same interests and can never communicate with.

They disgust him.

Working a 9-5 itself is already tiring, so why choose to cause himself more suffering by willingly spending time with literal failed fucking nutjobs who don't respect their family, or anyone, in that matter. He thinks its rather pointless to be with them when he can be at home with you.

At home.

With you.

At home is kicking off his expensive Jimmy Choo's that you bought for him with your last paycheck by the entrance and throwing his goddamned briefcase on the counter, followed by his car keys (a Mazda) and the resident's keycard.

At home is saying ただいま and seeing your figure still clad in your work clothes and an apron, standing in the kitchen stirring up a boiling pot of his favourite miso soup with curry cooking on the stove beside you. It's nothing misogynistic or anything -- Rindou can cook fairly well himself. There's just an unspoken rule between the two of you where whoever comes home first makes dinner. Both of you are working adults in damned Tokyo with a workplace culture of utter hell and bullshit, so it's not everyday you get to go out for dinner at some fancy restaurant downtown. Plus, there's something about cooking and eating dinner together with him that makes you so happy.

Rindou eyes the mat you're standing on and sighs a breath of relief.

"Baby," you call from the kitchen and he makes his way over to you sluggishly. "Taste." you feed him a spoon of the flavourful soup and he smacks his lips. Once, twice.

". . . Needs a little more salt." He reaches for the sodium and you take one sip yourself, "yeah, 's kinda dull."

You see him shake the salt container a bit before pushing you back behind him and grabbing the spoon in your hand to stir the soup. He makes sure you're still standing on the mat.

"Can you help me add more wakame? Been cravin' it a lot lately." He simply hums and tears open another packaging of the wakame on the countertop and throws it in.

And you simply let him take control, opting to step back and take this moment to watch -- or more like ogle, -- at your husband with the sleeves of his stripped Uniqlo dress-shirt rolled up to his elbows, the back of it messily tucked in his pants, and the gelled hairstyle you combed for him this morning nowhere in sight. You also smell the remains of tobacco on him -- he's been smoking again.

You furrow your brows at your latest observation, though you can't deny it's pretty endearing to see him like this.

Completely, utterly at home. And absolutely yours.

You're also sure now -- that watching him like this definitely makes you happy. Domestic and comfortable.

"Yeah, this tastes better." He turns to cup a palm under your chin and feeds you a spoon of miso. A drop falls onto his palm and he simply wipes it off on a washcloth. You hum, it does taste better. "Thanks, Chef Rin." He finishes off the soup you didn't manage to and throws the spoon in the sink to wash later.

He pinches your nose, pulls you by your neck to get you closer, and places a kiss on the crown of your head before pulling open the fridge. It's also one of his ways of saying he's home other than the usual greeting of ただいま.

You giddily lean against the kitchen island, untying the apron and laying it beside you. A pout suddenly forms at your lips and you blow raspberries while slowly unbuttoning the top of your dress, finally able to catch a break and get rid of the uncomfortable clothing.

Rindou looks back at you from your reaction and you tell without him asking.

"My clothes' gettin' tight. Hate it so much."

"We'll go shopping this weekend."

You nod, and he turns back to the fridge, though from the corner of your eye you see that he's been bowing down and staring at the shelves a little too long.

"Wha-"

"Where'd my KitKat go?"

Your fingers pause in their actions.

It's kinda funny how a simple question of your husband suspecting the whereabouts of his chocolate snack bar can make your mind travel to two nights back. It was on Monday at 2:41am when you'd snuck out of bed (out of his arms), and stole his last remaining KitKat in the fridge.

Rindou looks at you and you look back at him.

"Dunno."

Thief.

" . . . I wonder where's the Buenos I bought-"

Not the Buenos.

And suddenly you find yourself clinging for dear life onto your husband, with the best puppy eyes you can muster glossily looking up at him as if you're secretly trying to convey a message, to which he only scoffs at and starts peeling your arms off him.

"Baby, baby. Anythin' but the Buenos. They're mine."

"So was my KitKat."

"You can't blame me! It just looked so delicious I had to absolutely devour it-"

"-the damn Buenos are mine now."

"No."

.

.

.

You spend the next 20 minutes bickering with him about who holds final custody over the bag of mini Buenos sitting in the fridge. He reasons that because you ate his kitkat, and he was also the one who bought the Buenos for you, that he gets to keep it now. You argue that the fucking KitKat was hypnotising you into eating it, resulting in him losing his last KitKat bar because of the KitKat itself, and not because of you, that you get to keep your Buenos that he bought for you all to yourself and he gets nothing in compensation.

You both end up fucking in the bathtub afterwards.

"You're too noisy."

Gasp. Moan. Whimper.

"So are you."

Scratch. Squeeze. Bite.

Rindou is gentle when he holds you as you slowly regain your senses and shift to a more comfortable position. His dick is soft against your thigh and you help him wash off the sticky fluid.

You feel him growing hard again in your hand as he presses a kiss to your cheek and you curl the other arm around his neck.

He helps you align yourself with him and there's a soft blush on your cheeks when he bottoms out, "doc' said it's good, right?" "Yeah."

Yup, Doctor Fujita’s words is absolutely the reason why you’re spending the next hour making love with your husband in the bathtub.

(You just love him so much.)

It's later that night, after you've both finished your little session in the shower and dinner when Rindou brings up a topic neither of you have ever discussed about in the whole three years of your marriage.

He slaps your thigh, telling you to scoot over on the couch and immediately drops down next to you (or more like on top of you) when all you've made was just about a centimetre of space for him. A literal half of his body is on top of your legs, crushing down your thighs and you bite his bulky bicep in retaliation with a quiet asshole coming out of your mouth, trying your hardest to crawl your way out under his heavy, muscular body (that was an overstatement -- he just got back up and waited for you to move over so he could sit down properly). He hisses while rubbing the area you bit and simply stares at you in amusement.

Though annoying, he's careful with your body. He's made sure not to be rough with you and his orbs scans over your form to make sure you're not actually in pain.

You lift your legs up to rest in his lap and he moves his hands to massage your feet. You've been complaining about having feet pain lately, and it's probably one of the many side effects. He makes it a mental note to do research on it and how to help you feel better.

When he sees that you're sitting comfortably and back to focusing on the show playing on the TV screen again, he decides to fire the shot.

"I'm gonna quit my job." Rindou bluntly states.

All that shit in his mundane ass voice too: the one he uses when he's still an immature, younger and grouchier version of himself, fighting with opponents that don't impress him.

You hurriedly press pause on the remote to the show you're currently watching,

How to Get Away with Murder.

and you stare at him blankly.

You might start taking actual notes from Annalise Keating-san, you think.

"What?" You try retracting your legs away from him but his grip is tight as he continues massaging your ankle. You're not in the mood anymore, but it feels comfortable, so you leave them there.

"I'ma quit my job." Rindou closes his eyes and rests his head back on the soft beneath.

"Why?"

"One, 'm sick of it. Two, 's not what I like. Three, my boss' an asshole . . . So I'm quitting."

"And what will you do afterwards?"

"Gonna stay home."

"And?"

"Tsk. What? I've made 'nuff to support us for at least, what, like 20 years. Les' jus' stay home, smoke weed, I'll maybe start to DJ again. Or if you don't wanna, fine. We'll jus' book a one way to Switzerland or like, I don't know, fucking Canada or something and never come back. Heard from a few of the guys in my department 's cheap living there. And there's Singapore too, which is family friendly, I might look into it. What do you think?"

A beat.

And another.

The both of you break into a fit of laughter and you don't stop after . . . three minutes, to be exact.

It's unrealistic for an average salaryman in this economy to be earning an income enough to support his family for 20 years after without a job. Even 10 years is over-exaggerating. It's even more unrealistic that it's happening in Tokyo. In Rindou's case, an average Japanese salaryman who works in a position in his company which handles business and marketing. What made you laugh even harder is the fact Rindou had just brought up three major, rich and expensive countries in the world as cheap places to live in as a family.

The guy you married deserves a beating right now. Maybe another bite, too. This time at the shoulder. Who knows?

You crawl into his lap and squint your eyes, "you sound like you're asking to be single right now. Weed? With me right now? You're definitely asking for it."

"Was jus' jokin', baby. Never doin' that again. Don't divorce me."

"Thought your stupid ass could fool me? Thought you were still 18? You're not funny. You're quitting an office job in this economy, and you're- you're tellin' me, to stay home with you 'n," you pause to laugh, "'n to smoke weed 'n DJ with your ass."

He lands his palms on your hips and rubs up and down affectionately, "’Think I'm funny? At least I think I am," His thumbs subconsciously move to your stomach and traces soft circles on the skin.

"You are. Kinda." You comb through his soft hair with your fingers and push them back. He's smirking now. "Was not lyin' when I said I hate my fuckin' job. Guess I could turn to stand-up comedy if smoking weed and being an at-home DJ doesn't work out."

"I'll kill you."

Rindou brings out another fit of giggles in you and when it slowly dies down, you gaze into his purple orbs with a soft smile.

You cup both hands on his cheeks, "don't smoke so much, baby." You peck his lips twice before moving to smooch his cheeks. "'S bad for me."

"Yeah, sorry. Couldn't help it." Rindou blinks tiredly at your form and wraps you in his arms, his head moving down lower to rest on your chest, placing soft kisses at the tender, soft mounds. He suddenly remembers you've also been complaining about having some breast changes too. He's gotta bring that up to Fujita-san in the next visit, along with your feet issue.

“When’s your next appointment with Fujita again?”

“This Friday at 3. I’m taking the half day off to go, are you coming?”

Rindou is silent as he goes over his schedule for Friday in his head and- Fuck. He’s got an important meeting at 2 that doesn’t end till 4.

“I don’t think I can make it.” You hum softly, “it’s okay. I’ll call you.” Your fingers move to tangle themselves in his purple locks.

“I’ll try to come after I finish my meeting, so remember to tell her about your feet. That could be serious. Your breasts too.” “Okay.”

Rindou stares at your growing stomach, and relishes in how you've been getting more and more pretty each day with the love of you two combined and forming within you. (You've always been pretty. Just extra pretty when you're pregnant with his baby.)

You're aware of how he's been getting stressed out lately. Workload's been piling up, and with the current ongoing promotion offer that he's been nominated for, you know Rindou's just had to work extra harder, put in a little more effort. After all, a promotion in his company is no joke, whether it's a shit company or not. A huge incentive in his salary that can cover a lot more things like saving up for your baby's future education, some personal savings, emergency funds, and being able to invest in safer furnitures in the house to protect you -- his pregnant wife, and soon, the baby. He'll also get more authority in his company, which can lead to having more connections that will ultimately help him create more opportunities in life.

Your husband is a hard-worker. Not so much in his teenage years, perhaps, but he definitely is one now in the present, and you know he can never pass up an opportunity for a raise. After all, things are getting expensive, and raising a child with you in this city isn't anywhere near cheap.

He's past that life, he once swore to you. All the fighting and the drinking and the clubbing; behind alleyways and high up in the skyscrapers where he and Ran would be busy blowing his fathers' money off back in his city, the 2000s Roppongi with many people that he never contacts anymore. Not even Shion, but you know Rindou misses him a lot. They were best friends after all. You've watched them both grow up together from boys to men since you were kids.

"Rindou?" He hums. You press your thumb into a sore spot on his shoulder that he never told you about and you feel him relaxing under your touch.

"Les' go somewhere together, when you're done with your promotion. I'll jus' get some time off sayin' I'm too pregnant, or somethin'. They'll understand. Unlike you, the people at work actually likes me." You suggest, and he pinches your thigh. "You gettin' smug?" "Kinda."

Rindou laughs into your neck. "Yeah, 'kay. Where you wanna go?"

"'Was thinkin' of Hokkaido. I've never been there before," your pointer finger traces random twirly shapes onto his bare back. "Oh, maybe you could take me to Taiwan. One of the girls at work went with her hubby once 'n she said 's real nice there. Please, baby."

"But international flights are expensive right now. You sure you wanna go overseas?"

Crystals start to form at the corners of your eyes and your nose is getting red. "Really wanna go."

This pregnancy is gonna turn him into a saint. "'Kay, babe. Taiwan it is. We'll go to Taiwan, yeah? Don't cry." He kisses your lips. And he does it again and again until you stop sniffling. He wipes away your tears, too. And he pulls back to look at you. All pouty and gorgeous in his arms.

Haitani Rindou sits in the living room with his pregnant wife on his lap rambling his ear off about the cool things one of the girls at work saw in Taipei and he's left dumbfounded because . . .

The men at work? They're never going to experience this kind of life. The domesticity with you. The soft kisses shared before you fall asleep together in bed. The kisses placed on your belly when the baby's kicking a little too hard and you can't sleep. And soon he's going to feel a new type of warmth blossoming in his chest where he comes home after getting asked to go to fucking Shangri-La again, and sees you feeding your baby milk on the couch, waiting for him. Excited to share a new story about what happened with you and your baby earlier.

"She just said her first word, Rin." "What?" "C'mon, say it for your papa, now." The baby wiggles around in her mother's arms and looks at her father, who is now hovering over her and has a warm hand placed on the back of her head. She blinks, and smiles. "Ba-ba."

And suddenly he feels like the happiest man alive.

"Thank you."

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading ≽ܫ≼

#r1988 #home collection #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers

[amhrosina]

Jealousy (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: A little Matt Murdock x reader if you squint. Thanks for requesting, nonnie! I didn't know if you wanted smut, but it wasn't requested, so I just added a little baby interaction at the end that sort of alludes to smut after the end of the fic.

Requests are open!

Request: Could you do one where yn is working with Red but he doesn’t know she’s married to Frank until he shows up and when he finds out he confess to yn that he likes her and frank get jealous and overprotective

Summary: Frank overhears Matt asking you out and sets him straight.

Warnings: a teeny baby tiny little bit of barely smut at the end

Hell’s Kitchen was abnormally quiet as you waited for Red to finish his patrol of the area. No sirens, no screaming, not even the occasional gunshot to keep you on your toes. Your night was rapidly approaching an early end. Not that you minded, though. Frank was back home, patiently waiting for you to crawl into bed next to him.  

Even though he always insisted that you don’t worry about him, you knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he could hold you in his arms and physically see that you were unharmed. It was the same when the roles were reversed, too. When Frank was the one running around all night, you spent most of the time pacing around the living room, pretending to read a book until he came home. 

Your breath fogged in front of you. The November air was crispy in your lungs, and you couldn’t help but bounce from foot to foot as you did a 360 sweep around the roof. What the hell was taking Red so long? You could’ve circled the entirety of Hell’s Kitchen twice by now.  

The hair on the back of your neck prickled as a light thud sounded behind you. You waited for any indication that told you not to turn around and kick the person's lights out.  

“Hey, Killer.”  

Matt’s voice was gruff, but soft. You instantly relaxed, shoulders dropping in relief as you turned around. 

“What’s up, Red? You find anything?”  

“Nothing important.” He responded, shrugging his shoulders. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. Matt’s behavior was alarmingly different than you were used to. Typically, Matt’s demeanor was blunt, sometimes arrogant, and a little bit on the cocky side. Tonight, he was pacing the roof, shrugging his shoulders, and he even looked a little anxious. 

“Red? You good?” 

“Let me take you out to dinner.” 

His words were rushed, pushed together into one breath and said so quickly that you almost missed it altogether. You gaped at him, waiting for him to say something else. The silence between you hung heavy. 

“What?” You finally ask, not knowing what else to say. How were you going to explain to Matt that you couldn’t possibly get dinner with him on account of your VeryBigAndScary husband. 

“Let me take you out,” he began walking towards you, “as Matt, not the Devil. You’re strong and you’re smart and you’re beautiful and I would feel like an idiot if I didn’t at least try to offer myself up to you. Will you let me? Take you out, I mean.”  

You sucked in a breath.  

“Matt, I-” 

A loud chuckle behind you had you whirling around. Matt was immediately defensive, stepping in front of you to shield you from whoever meant harm. You knew that chuckle though, and you knew Matt should probably be running in the opposite direction instead of towards it. 

Frank was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smile dangerous.  

“Frank, this doesn’t concern you.” The softness of Matt’s voice from moments ago was long gone, replaced by the low voice of the Devil. 

Frank’s smile grew wider, and you rolled your eyes. It was like watching a cat taunt the mouse it was 3 seconds away from devouring.  

“It doesn’t concern me, Red? When you’re asking my wife out on a date?” 

You groan and run your hands over your face.  

“What are you doing here, honey?” You mumble, shaking your head. 

“I had a feeling, sweetheart. It’s a good thing I came, too, or else you’d be breaking Red’s heart over here.” 

“Honey? Wife? What the hell is going on here? You two know each other?” Matt’s voice was rapidly rising as he looked between you and Frank.  

You ignore Frank, whose overprotectiveness was starting to grate on your nerves. You were perfectly capable of turning someone down.  

“Matt, uh...” You pause, searching for the right words, “Frank is my husband. We’ve been married for almost three years. Well, technically I’m married to Pete Castiglione, but you know, semantics...” You trailed off, hoping Matt wouldn’t be too angry about your secret. 

“What?” Matt was thoroughly confused, voice rising to a pitch you didn’t know he was capable of. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  

The question was aimed at you, but Frank answered before you could respond.  

“I told her not to. I didn’t want her being tied to me during that legal shit we had to go through last year.” 

“It’s been 9 months since you were pardoned, Frank. What the...what the fuck, guys?” 

Matt sounded genuinely betrayed, but you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of your chest.  

“Matt, I’m so sorry, but once your business with Frank was finished, I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“Something like, ‘Oh hey Matt, by the way, I’m married to the guy who chained you to a water tower that one time.’” 

Matt had a small grin on his face now, and you sagged with relief. He wasn’t mad. Frank moved closer to you, pulling your back into his front as he mumbled into your ear, “He deserved it.” 

“I most certainly did not.”  

Frank ran his hand up your arm, following the upwards slope of your shoulder until his fingers rested lightly on your pulse. His other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into a tight hold. You gasped at his forwardness, especially in front of Matt.  

“Red, fuck off, will you?” Frank’s words were thrown in Matt’s direction, who was doing a terrible job at looking like he wasn’t listening. 

“Sorry, Matty.” You mumble, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

Matt let out a tight, “mhm”, before jumping from the ledge and disappearing into the night. 

“That was mean, Frank.” You sigh, resting your head on his chest. 

“He was hitting on you. I think my reaction was pretty tame. I could’ve bashed his head into that brick wall.” 

“He wasn’t hitting on me. He was asking me out. It was...gentlemanly. And quit being jealous.” You swatted at his chest. 

“I’m not allowed to be jealous when a guy asks my wife out on a date?” 

You rolled your eyes, turning to head down the fire escape when Frank’s arms tightened around you. He peppered kisses down your neck, softly nipping at the sweet spot below your ear. His hand trailed down your stomach, stopping just below your waistline where his fingers began to play with the hem of your underwear. 

“Frank,” you gasped, “what if Matt can still hear us?” 

His voice was a low, silky coil in your gut.  

“Let him. Now, stop talking about other men when my hands are so close to your-” 

A loud clash of metal from a few blocks away cut him off. Matt could definitely still hear you. Frank let out a bark of laughter before devouring you whole, and you couldn’t do anything but try to quiet your moans until you were sure Matt couldn’t possibly hear you anymore. 

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #jon bernthal #daredevil #frank castle imagine #frank castle smut #punisher smut #punisher imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #frank castle fanfiction #avengers #matt murdock #frank castle x you #frank castle fluff #requested #reqs open #matt murdock x reader #charlie cox #amhrosina

[miscling]

i am a toy for others to enjoy!

TASKS ARE CURRENTLY: CLOSED

I AM USING THIS TASK LIST NOW:

Pick an emoji and send it to me through my ask box, and i'll go off and do it as soon as i can (usually in the afternoons and evenings)! i love to get tasks so i can show off what a good and obedient girl i am.

If it comes with additional instructions, send those too!

i will accept tasks from anyone (including anons).

You can send more than one at once in combo, but add instructions if it might be complicated!

Don't send tasks that will take more than 30 minutes to complete or have open ended instructions!

i'll also take suggestions for things to add to the list!

(Most tasks recieved and completed in one day: 18) (Most tasks recieved on a special occasion: 48)

Masochism Tasks

🤏 play with my nipples for 5 minutes. 🗜️ Nipple clamps, 5 minutes, go. 🥶 put ice on my nipples for as long as I can hold it. 👋 go get tickled by my nestie for 5 mins (name a tool to use and/or body part to get tickled) 🖐️ slap myself or get someone to slap me 10 times! (tell me where to get slapped) 🏓 Choose an implement to hit myself with 10 times! (name an implement and location, and I'll do my best) 👣 put elastic bands around my feet and snap the band against my soles 10 times. 📦 Pick a number between 1 and 5, and i'll put that many pegs on both sides of my cunt for 10 minutes. ⚡choose a location to use TENS unit on for 10 minutes. 🫶 get your nestie to choke you and hold your breath over a 5 minute session (please do not mix with other non-aftercare tasks)

Transformation Tasks

🪆 Be a doll! for the next 30 mins cup your hands, stay on your tip toes, and arch your back. You want to be a good doll after all. 😺 Who's a pretty kitty? (for the next 30mins, keep off the furniture and only move around on all fours, and only talk in meows.) 🐮 Be a good Moo! (pump my udders for 30mins, only talk in moos) 🤖 Be a good robot and complete one thing on your to-do list! ♾️ get your breast cups and pump your breasts up a size for 15 minutes

Obedience Tasks

💧 Get a glass of water and down it! no using the toilet for the next hour. (mutuals can tell me to ask their permission publicly or privately to use the toilet instead of setting a time limit) ⛓️ Get tied up in self bondage for 15 mins. (send me ideas!) 🥊 No hands! put on my hand mitts for 15 minutes! 🤐 no talking! Gag yourself for half an hour! (tell me what kind of gag to use and if I have it I'll use it, otherwise I'll pick) 👗 Get undressed! Be naked for the next 30 mins! 💄 Do/touch-up your make-up! I can always make it a lil' sluttier 😉 ✏️ pick a spot for me to write what you want on my body (tell me where, but I won't use anything that won't wash off easy on my face) 😵‍💫 Stare at a spiral for 5 minutes (send me a spiral to use) (I won't use spirals that give me bad vibes, but I'll use any I've already reblogged)

Content Tasks

👙 put on a sexy outfit and do a photoshoot! 🖼️ take and post a selfie, tell me if you want a specific body part! (I won't post a face pic or anything nsft, mutuals I've been talking to can ask for spicier things in private) 🗣️Speak! Give me a topic to write about (kinky or otherwise) and I'll infodump about it. 🔊 Send me a post or a write something for me to record saying, and i'll post the recording. 📝 Go add 100 words to my current WIP novel.

Horny Tasks

🫴 edge for 5 minutes (Send me instructions, porn, a post to edge to, or a mantra to repeat while I do it, you can use my mantra tag for ideas. i cannot do this task on thursdays) (nothing involving anyone who looks under 18 or scat, I like affirming mantra) 😈 No touching! Don't touch myself for half an hour. 👅 tongue out for 10 minutes! 🎁 Share a control link for one of my long distance remote control vibrators. (no account needed to use, i'll use it on myself for 10mins, and stop if no one takes the link while i'm doing that. i cannot do this task on thursdays) 🕳️ Fill up a hole for 10 minutes! (Choose to plug my cunt or/and ass, i cannot do this task on thursdays) 💋 go practice deepthroating for 5 mins.

Aftercare Tasks

(Use these tasks in combination with tasks from other categories) 🚰 Go get some water and drink it! 🍇 Go get a snack and eat it! 🌊 Fill up a tub of warm water and soak my feet for a bit! 🤗 Put on a big hoodie until I feel nice and cozy! 🧸Hug time! (go hug someone i care for or a stuffie for a minute) 💖 draw a little heart on myself (tell me where if you'd like!) ❌ Go take a Break! (go stand outside for 5 mins) 😴 Take a nap! go lay down in bed for 15 mins, no screens allowed.

or...

⁉️ Give me a task not listed! (You can find the contents of my toybox here for ideas) (I reserve the right to safeword, but I'm very open and obedient, so shoot your shot)

#miscling plays #miscling tasks #miscling ask tasks

[unhingedkinfessions]

istg. seeing someone say "this is my kinlist!!" and its just a bunch of characters they relate to heavily makes me (kinda) upset. and i saw one a while ago who did the same thing with the tag "kin for fun" which isnt even right too!! like just call it synpath or copinglink or something similar!! and a long while ago one of my friends from another site explained to someone that kinning was just relating to a character a lot and even had [character]* irl as his username in discord for a while. like no?? huh???? and all of this is coming from someone whos only actually kinned for not even a month and doesnt really care that much about terminology. im just tired of people misusing general kin terms for whatever theyre feeling

(*not revealing the character or the source because my friends use tumblr and they can guess pretty quickly who im talking about. also sorry if this sounds more than a kinrant or a complaint (kinplaint?) or something i just needed to let this out)

dude. i was on reddit the other day and . hold on.

sorry to out myself as someone who peruses reddit but this made me so mad when i saw it.

i did not experience the fucking HORRORS of 1. being sunny, and 2. reliving the trauma + guilt of all that in my current real ass life for several months, for fuckers online to talk about their "highest kin" being a character "you relate to the most." IM GONNA THROW UP!!!

wait i just looked at ops account and in their bio they have a list of 3 charas they kin. YOU ARE NOT KINNING!! what the fuck ever.

#mod bender #kinfessions #Anonymous #fictionkin

[wander-wren]

every once in a while i like to poke my head into "anti [x]" tags just to see what the other side thinks. recently i was looking through "anti ao3" and found a really funny post claiming that ao3 is not anticapitalist, but actually the Definition Of Capitalism, bc it relies on volunteer labor while supposedly having the money to pay a staff.

oh, honey.

but i am not going to make unsubstantiated claims on the internet, no, and this gives me an excuse to look at ao3's whole budget myself, which i've been meaning to do for a while. these numbers are taken from the 2022 budget post and budget spreadsheet.

ao3's total income for 2022, from the two donation drives, regular donations, donation matching programs, interest, and royalties was $1,012,543.42. less than $300 of that was from interest and royalties, so it's almost all donations. and that's a lot, right? surely an organization making a million dollars a year can afford to pay some staff, right?

well, let's look at expenses. first of all, they lose almost $37,000 to transaction fees right away. ao3 and fanlore (~$341k and ~$18k, respectively) take up the biggest chunks of the budget by far. that money pays for, to quote the 2022 budget post, "server expenses—both new purchases and ongoing colocation and maintenance—website performance monitoring tools, and various systems-related licenses."

in some years, otw also pays external contractors to perform audits for security issues, and for more servers to handle the growing userbase. servers are expensive as hell, guys. in 2022, new server costs alone were $203k.

each of their other programs only cost around $3,000 or less, and otw paid around $78k for fundraising and development. wait, how do you lose so much money on your fundraising?? from the 2022 budget post: "Our fundraising and development expenses consist of transaction fees charged by our third-party payment processors for each donation, thank-you gift purchases and shipping, and the tools used to host the OTW’s membership database and track communications with donors and potential donors."

then the otw paid an additional $74k in administration expenses, which covers "hosting for our website, trademarks, domains, insurance, tax filing, and annual financial statement audits, as well as communication, management, and accounting tools."

in case you weren't following all of that math, the total expenses for 2022 come out to $518,978.48. woah! that's a lot! but it's still only a little over half of their net revenue. weird. i wonder what they do with that extra $494k?

well, $400k of it goes to the reserves, which i'll get to in a second. the last $93k, near as i can tell, gets rolled over to the next year. i'll admit this part i'm a little unsure about, as it's not clear on the spreadsheet, but that's the only thing that makes sense.

the reserves, though are clear. the most recent post i could find on the otw site about it were in the board meeting minutes from april 2, 2022: "We’re holding about $1million in operating cash that is about twice the amount of our annual operating costs. There is another $1million in reserves due to highly successful fundraisers in the past. The current plan for the reserves is to hold the money for paid staff in the future. It’s been talked about before in the past and we’re still working out the details, but it’s a rather expensive undertaking that will result in large annual expenses in addition to the initial cost of implementation."

woah....they're PLANNING to have paid staff eventually! wild!

so let's assume, for easy numbers, that the otw currently has $1.5 million in reserves. before we even get to how to use that money, let's look at the issues with implementing paid staff:

deciding which positions are going to be paid, because it can't be all of them

deciding how much to pay them, bc minimum wage sure as hell isn't enough, and cost of living is different everywhere, and volunteers come from all over the world

hiring staff and implementing new systems/tools to handle things like payroll and accounting

making sure you continue to earn enough money both to pay all of the staff and have some in reserves for emergencies or leaner donation drives

probably even more stuff than that! i don't run a nonprofit, that's just what i can think of off the top of my head.

okay, okay, okay. for the sake of argument, let's assume there is a best-case scenario where the otw starts paying some staff tomorrow. how much should they be paid? i'm picking $15 an hour, since that's what we fought for the minimum wage to be. by now, it should be closer to $20 or $25, but i'm trying to give "ao3 is capitalism" the fairest shot it can get here, okay?

ideally, if someone is being paid to help run ao3, they shouldn't need a second job. every job should pay enough to live off of. and running a nonprofit is hard work that leads to a lot of burnout--two board members JUST resigned before their terms were up. what i'm saying is, i'm going to assume a paid otw staff is getting paid for 40 hours of work a week, minimum. that's $31,200.

at $400,000 per year, the otw can afford to pay 12 people. that's WITHOUT taking into account the new systems, tools, software, etc they would have to pay for, any kind of fees, etc, etc.

oh, and btw, if you're an american you're still making barely enough to survive in most places, AND you don't have universal healthcare, vision, or dental. want otw to give people insurance, too? the number of people they can pay goes down.

it's. not. possible.

a million dollars is a lot of money on the face of it, but once you realize how MUCH goes into running something like the otw, it goes away fast.

just for reference, wikipedia also has donation drives every year. wikipedia, as of 2021, has $86.8 million in cash reserves and $137.4 million in investments. sure, wikipedia and ao3 are very different entities, but that disparity is massive. and i should note that if you give $10 to wikipedia they don't give you voting rights, i'm just saying.

by the way, you may have noticed that i didn't mention legal costs at all here. isn't one of otw's big Things about how they do legal advocacy?

yes, it is. they have a whole page about that work. and i can't for the life of me find a source on otw's website (and i'm running out of time to write this post, i'll look harder later), but i am 90% sure i learned before that most, if not all, of otw's legal work/advice/etc is done pro bono. i've also seen an anti-ao3 person claim their legal budget is only $5k or so, but they didn't have a source. but keep in mind that if they don't have a legal budget, all the numbers above stay the same, and if they do, there is even less money available for paid staff.

you can criticize ao3 and the otw all you want! there are many valid reasons to criticize them, and i do not think they're perfect either. but if you're going to do so, you should at least make sure you can back up your claims, bc otherwise you just look silly.

#ao3 #otw #anti ao3 #bc i want them to see this #otw board #ao3 discourse #ao3 donations #wren wrambles #that post was so unserious i died #if it was more recent (its from mid-july) i wouldve replied directly maybe #but i didnt want to drag the body of a 6-note post into the light OR attack the op directly so #also! if i misunderstood something pls let me know im doing my best

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Engagement ||

Matt Murdock x gn reader

Tags/warnings: mild angst, mild smut, meta, sorry not sorry I had to!!! 😂

As always, I adore and appreciate any comments, reblogs, etc and I'm extremely thankful to you for reading my fics!

~

Matt's arms tighten around you as you lie snuggled up together in bed. He can pick up on your disconnected mood from your elevated heart rate and the way he hears your breathing change every time you think about saying something and then stop yourself.

"You know you can talk to me, if something's wrong." He says quietly.

You take a deep inhale, sighing it out as you nuzzle into his t-shirt at his shoulder. "I know," you reply, choosing to ignore the invitation to unload.

He pushes a little harder in response. "Sweetie, you've been off for a while now, you think I hadn't noticed?"

"Urgh. It's stupid."

He turns his head to kiss you on the top of your head, giving you another squeeze. "I'm sure it's not, and talking about might help? If you want."

You huff out another sigh. "I dunno, I've kind of talked it over with others but it doesn't seem to make any difference. I'm not sure it's something I can fix."

Concern washes over Matt's features. "Is– is it something I've done? Or not done?" He gently takes your face in his hands. "Sweetheart, you'd tell me if it was me wouldn't you? I'd want you to."

You smile, bringing your hand up to stroke through his soft, messy hair. "Of course I would, and no it's nothing you've done, so don't fret."

The worry melts from his brow. "Alright, but c'mon, try me. I'm sure we can do something about whatever it is that's got you down."

"Well… it's work related. I'm not getting anywhere near as much feedback on my stuff as I used to. You know how in the creative sector we kinda thrive on others sharing our work to bring it to the attention of others? I've been feeling for a while now that the sense of community that we had has just sort of disappeared. People don't seem to want to interact that much with what we make."

Matt groans. "Baby, is this about the lack of reblogs on Tumblr again? "

You can't help frowning. "It is." You admit.

He smiles and rolls over to cage you underneath him. "I could make you forget about it, for a while at least?"

"Matty!" You push him off with a frustrated sigh. "Are you honestly trying to distract me with sex? You know how important this is to me."

"I know, I'm sorry. I don't mean to trivialise the issue, I just thought I could take your mind off it, maybe make you feel better."

"So kind and selfless of you…" you smirk as he starts to kiss along the column of your neck.

"I try." He smiles. "Anyway, you were saying? And I'm gonna keep kissing you."

"Fine. Okay, so I know that I should create for myself and not for other people…"

"But it's nice to get some recognition, right?" You nod as Matt holds himself over you again continuing to make his way down your neck towards your collarbones.

"Right. I really do appreciate the likes, but if people are just 'liking' my work without sharing it, that means it just ends up dead in the water. No-one else really gets the chance to enjoy it."

"Any idea why they are not sharing?" Matt asks, lightly stroking your side.

"I dunno, maybe they're not familiar with how the site works, that it doesn't have an algorithm? Maybe they're embarrassed to let other people see what they're looking at? Especially if it's something a bit risqué."

Matt hums. "Yeah but didn't you tell me before that they could just create a sideblog that's not associated with their main account, and reblog things they like using that and no one would be any wiser?'

"Exactly! And anyway, it's not like everyone doesn't enjoy looking at and reading porn…"

Matt lifts his head up, a slight sly smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. "Mm true. So what else are you sad about?"

You sigh again. You can't seem to stop yourself.

"Well, people aren't commenting on works either. There's rarely any discussion, I mean even just a manic keyboard smash would be amazing for an artist to see in their notifications, but there's barely even that anymore. Commenting on a stranger's fan works is so much fun, it can really bring people together!"

"That's how a great community grows isn't it?" Matt asks you.

"Yep, and you end up making so many friends you would never have thought. I miss that aspect of it a lot."

Matt's swiftly moving down to lavish attention over your chest, and you momentarily lose your train of thought as his lips brush over your nipple. "And have you brought people's attention to this problem?"

"Of course! Many other creators have explained why reblogs and sharing are so important in eloquently written PSAs, but I guess that the target audience must not see them because they're perhaps only looking at the stories and fanart from tags and they maybe don't see the other dashboard posts. I dunno."

Matt starts to lick an achingly slow intimate path down your stomach and you feel heat spreading throughout your body, your heart rate now elevated for quite a different reason. Then suddenly, he stops.

"Have you thought about maybe incorporating the message into one of your creations? Maybe that might reach the intended audience better."

You close your eyes as you consider the idea. He shifts further down the bed and you allow him to spread your thighs apart and slot his shoulders inbetween.

"Mm, well… that's- actually that's a good idea. I mean, it can't hurt to try, can it? You're the devil on my shoulder Matty."

"Exactly. But leave it till tomorrow sweetheart. Right now this devil wants to make you feel good."

You bite down on your lip as he flashes you a smoldering look before ducking down to make good on his promise.

#matt murdock x you #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock smut #reblog fics and art!!! #comment on stuff! #make friends and keep the community going! 😊 #thank you thank you!

[bellewintersroe]

Carlos Sainz x Celebrity OC… Part 3

Part 3!! Here’s the link for part 2. Woop, woop, we’re back and this chapter continues on from the first chapter, the last chapter was just a recollection of Carlos and Jenna’s first interaction. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy! This is just a cute filler chapter, the next one will be spicyyyy 🌶️ Jenna’s first day at the Emilia Romagna GP goes down a treat with both celebrities and the general public. Twitter and TikTok are popping off about her being there, and some fans even notice the semi-strange interaction between her and a particular driver.

There was no partying for me tonight. I was exhausted and dipped after two hours, feeling the urge to unwind by myself in the luxurious hotel room Sky had paid for me to be in. It had never felt better to be in bed, my eyes closing for a few moments as I mentally recapped my day. It was a whirlwind from start to end and I was overwhelmingly excited to do it all again in Portugal. I knew my team were extremely happy with what I’d done, and I was popular amongst the drivers and many teams I’d spent the whole day talking to, but there was one group of people I was particularly interested in. The general public.

My heart would always skip a beat whenever I searched myself on Twitter. It was a scary place, and I always expected it to be a lot worse than what it ever was, so I found myself scared to read through the countless tweets about me. Some of the top were update pages, posting pictures of me with supportive comments, before I scrolled down, relieved at the lack of hateful comments. Jenna Ashley looking BEAUTIFUL on the grid today wearing Gucci! Dress and shoes are tagged below. Miss Ashley proves to be a complete hit with all the F1 Drivers.

You can’t tell me Pierre wasn’t staring at Jenna Ashley’s tits that whole interview 🫤🫤🫤🫤

Jenna Ashley for Playboy 2019

Anybody notice the tension between Carlos Sainz and Jenna Ashley?!? I can’t be the only one that saw his reaction

My eyes furrowed, clicking on the tweet that had been liked thousands of times. I was intrigued, looking back at the pictures of us both in the interview.

Omg she’s blushing

Carlos has deffo pulled our girl nah I think her and Max are a thing, did you see how friendly they were?

Carlos looks in LOVE and ohmygodddd same Carlos I’d be just as nervous around her He’s so nervous around her omfgggg

I clicked my phone shut, staring back to a blank screen with brows raised. Was it that obvious? I mean there always was going to be speculation, I’d been trained for that, but how do you react when speculation ends up being true? That sent me on a whole spiral, going onto Carlos’s Instagram and noticing the option to ‘follow back’. “Oh my god.” I dramatically sat up, clicking the icon to follow him back. He most likely didn’t even run his social media accounts, but I sure as hell was acting like he did.

I was guilty of doing a small stalk, well, not so small. He’d been single (from what the internet said) since 2019, two years ago now, and from what I had seen was super unproblematic. Of course, I recognised who his dad was, but his whole family looked like they came from old money. They looked rich, all beautiful and dressed up. Most of all, Carlos’ instagram was beautiful. The man looked like a model, or even a Greek god, sculpted by the gods. That evening he ignited a fire inside of me, leading to me a never ending path of pure lust and obsession for the Spanish driver.

*******

“Hello and welcome to Monaco!!” A woman greeted as I stepped off the plane. “Thank you!” I exclaimed, mouth dropping at the beauty of the small country I’d landed in. It was my first time in Monaco, and I already guaranteed it wouldn’t be my last.

“My name is Amanda, I am a chaperone here with Sky, I will be showing you to your apartment.” “Oh, amazing! Thank you.” I nodded, holding my hair down due to the blustering of the plane jets that were slowing down gradually. I was here to run through some interviews with a couple of the drivers, showing some behind the scenes footage of the race tracks and practice. I was just as intrigued as everybody else, I had so many questions I wanted to ask, and so many places I wanted to venture into.

“Are you ready for your meal tonight, yes?” She asked as I looked at her, smile still lifted on my face. “Meal? Are we- are we going out?!”

“Yes. To Le Louis XV-Alain Ducasse à l'Hôtel de Paris…”

It was safe to say the resteraunt really lived up to his name. I felt out of place as I was guided through the overwhelmingly large hallways, decorated with the most beautiful, expensive paintings and designs known to man. They even had their own Lobster pool, c’mon. This felt too fancy for me, and I made several panicked Tik Tok’s in the process of wondering around.

I alongside the other Sky reporters, had been invited for a meal with some of the other reporters, team principles, CEO’s, men with big amounts of money- and most interesting of all, drivers. I couldn’t lie, I had no idea why I was here, it felt like I’d stumbled in during a Royal family having their Christmas dinner, everybody was sat straight up, borderline like statues as I nervously rubbed my clammy palms along the fabric of my sleek black dress. No wonder they’d dressed me up so classy.

Everybody’s accents were fancy, and not to forget their names. Oh god, there was so many names and faces to go around, I was so overwhelmed by it all that I drunk my champagne a little too quickly. Once we were seated, I almost choked on my drink seeing who I was sat across from.

Carlos Sainz Jr.

The whole 50 or so people that filled this room and I was seated across from a man I’d slept with only weeks prior?! My eyes were focused on his name card on the table before I actually realised he was looking at me. His eyes roamed up my front, lingering over my face, mid sentence as he seemed to pause from pure surprise. Poor guy probably felt awkward.

“Hello.” I cleared my throat, gaining several other greetings in response. Carlos smiled and nodded towards me, taking his glass of Estrella and smiling down to it. He was dressed very smart, like all the other men here, his hair was tidied and he was cleanly shaved, playing his role here perfectly. “I’m glad you’re sat next to me.” Anise whispered as I nodded, relieved to have the comfort of my friend nearby. “Thank god. I’m scared I’m going to spill something.” “I’m scared I’m going to sneeze!” She dramatically whispered as we both giggled, earning a few glances from the posh looking men around us, including Carlos. I felt intimidated under his stare, I was fidgeting and biting down on my lip, chewing the inside of it nervously. I’d felt embarrassed whenever my eye caught his, the way he made my heart race was humiliating. Worst of all, my mind easily wandered to places it shouldn’t have. His fingers that tapped quietly on the table were the same ones that had brought my to orgasm, the same ones that had been in my mouth, running over my breasts… I was getting distracted from the conversation I initiated with Anise and another young woman sat across from us. Next to Carlos. She was very pretty. “I am from Spain.” She smiled. “Ah no way, hablo un poco de español!” (I speak a little Spanish). “Ah!” She excitedly spoke, grabbing Carlos’s arm, my eyebrow twitched slightly. “¡¿Vives ahí?!” (Do you live there?!” “No, no, soy de Inglaterra. Mis abuelos eran españoles.” (No, no I am from England. My grandparents were Spanish). I glanced back to Carlos who was now listening, eyes lingering over my face. “Uh-“ I stammered, losing my Spanish as I looked back to the girl besides him. “They taught us.” I then added as the young woman smiled. “You are Jenna? Yes?” She smiled, offering her hand over the table. I reached forwards, wobbling my empty wine glass as I shook her hand gently. “Yeah.”

“Nice to meet you, I am Blanca. You have met my brother, Carlos?” Oh. Oh!! My eyes landed on the dark featured man who was smiling back to me, shame on me for ever thinking his sister was anything other than that.

“Ah, yeah, we met in Italy.” My hand tan over the back of my bare shoulder nervously. I heard Anise let out a soft laugh, kicking me from under the table. Way to make it obvious! “Carlos told me-“ Blanca began, a low smirk stretching as Carlos’ mouth opened to cut her off, but the waiters began heading through the doors, endless trays of foot plated up for us. I glanced back to the brother and sister, watching him mutter something to her before the dishes were set in front of us, trays covering the food below. I was starving, border lining ravenous.

“Thank you.” I told the waiter, watching him pull the tray off my food. The disappointment must have been obvious because I heard a slight grunt of laughter from across from me. Carlos had noticed and pursed his lips, I shared a moment of eye contact, only breaking it when I felt an amused grin attempting to reveal itself on my face. Don’t get me wrong, the foot made my taste buds literally orgasm, but there was such a tiny amount, so was the next plate, and then the next one, and then the fourth and final plate which left me rather confused. Everybody was using a different knife and fork, digging into their small chocolate contraption as I realised I didn’t have the right fork and spoon people were using.

Anise was occupied, delving into the food, so was Blanca. My panic was only resolved when Carlos held out his clean fork for me. “Ah.” I gently spoke seeing him let out a small breath of laughter causing a few people to glance over in confusion. People were so snooty, it was scary.

“Thank you.” I whispered, offering him a flirtatious smile for the first time since we’d seen one another in the bar. Carlos nodded, swallowing harshly as my fingers grazed over his, taking the fork to eat my two bite desert with.

At the end of it, there was a few speeches, in many different languages. All I could think about was how hungry I was. The food was 10/10 but the portion sizes were crazy small and it was more like eating four appetisers. After, I stood outside, waiting for a car, borderline desperate to get out of there. Somebody cleared their throat behind me, so when I turned, I was startled to see it was Carlos, lingering around. “Where are you going?” He asked as my lips tugged up, hand resting against my chest. “Um… McDonald’s.” I quietly admitted seeing his eyebrows perk, an amused laugh escaped his lips, catching me off guard.

“I’m really hungry.” I then spoke. “Oh, that is a good idea.” He sighed after a bout of laughter, I nervously laughed, tucking my hair behind my ear as I watched over the Spanish man. “Can I come?” Carlos asked, glancing back to me as I cocked my head to the side.

“Yeah. You like Mconalds?” I for some reason found it super amusing, watching him strip his tie off with a satisfied groan, one that sounded very familiar to-

“Who doesn’t?” “Maybe the people we just ate with.” I shyly joked hearing him snigger again. “No me sorprendería.” (It would not surprise me). He added on unbuttoning his top button. His blazer was slung on his arm, his movement causing the scent of his cologne to float in my direction. I felt weak in the knees.

“You never told me you were- ah what’s the word, reporting on the grids?” He then spoke as I smiled again, back in his direction. “You never asked.” I quietly spoke, hoping my comment came off more flirtatious.

“Estaba un poco ... distraído.” (I was a little… distracted). I only seemed to blush harder at his words, pursing my lips. “Miss, miss, excuse me miss!” A man called out, hurrying from the inside, just as my car began pulling up. “You forgot this.” He panted, handing me over a piece of paper. “Oh-“ I didn’t have time to respond before he scurried off back inside.

I could feel Carlos’ eyes lingering over me, so I frowned, opening it up.

tu español es impresionante llámame

(Your Spanish is impressive… call me).

I gasped in amusement, reading the number scattered on the paper below, the driver pulling up as Carlos opened the door for me. “Thank you.” I giggled, still a little amused from the note I’d just received, but it was fair to say my eyes were only on the man who climbed into the seat next to me. “You left a paper?” He pointed, a little confused.

“It’s somebody’s number.” I awkwardly laughed, handing it over. He furrowed his brows reading over the small piece of paper. He let out a soft laugh, handing it back to me with a hand sliding over the back of his hair.

“Ahora me siento bajo presión... ¿puedo darte el mío antes de que tomes este?“ (Now I feel under pressure… can I give you mine before you take this one?) I sat up straighter, a large grin beaming on my face as he looked away, clearly nervous as he awaited my answer. I would never have imagined a man like him to be shy.

“Sí. Yes.” I giggled, pulling out my phone, forgetting all about the paper number that I’d accidentally dropped onto the seat besides me. “Yes?” Carlos repeated as I nodded, seeing him attempting to bite back a smile whilst pulling out his phone from his back pocket. “Perfect.”

#carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader

[egrets-not-regrets]

Soap

Lenora used a different soap. Erriox wasn’t having any of it.

Dialogue spoken in High Gothic are in bolded italics

OCs: Lenora; Erriox (Iron Warrior) 

Author's Note:Just a play on how sensitive a space marine’s sense of smell is. Also, the dialogue might look funny as both Erriox and Lenora may speak to each other in a mix of English and High Gothic. Kind of a broken mix since they might not either know how to or feel like using the other language all the time.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts

Lenora noticed Erriox kept on pausing over her every time he passed by. He had this slightly confused look as if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. She mused, it was kind of cute the way he wrinkled his nose when she caught him sniffing over her. 

“Your scent is different.” He stated when she finally asked him what was on his mind. 

Lenora leaned back in her chair and looked at him, eyebrow raised, “I just showered if that’s what is bothering you.”

“No.” He insisted. Instead of the earthy scent of cedar and sprucewood she usually wore, Lenora smelled of citrus and spices. Pretty innocuous by all accounts, but every time he passed by her, the scent kept reminding him of Mithras, her friend’s Astartes. It was not her scent (or his, for that matter). It was irritating Erriox more than it should be. What was the Thousand Son’s scent doing, covering over (his) Lenora? The thought of someone else trying to covet his mortal companion made his hackles rise and the gland in the roof of his mouth itch. “Different soap?” Erriox finally blurted out. 

Lenora blinked, slowly realizing what the Iron Warrior was getting at. “Yes, I used another soap. My original one ran out. What the —?!.” She “eeped” as she was abruptly tossed over his shoulder and carried towards the bathroom. 

“Hey! Put me down! I already washed myself!” Protesting, Lenora thumped the Astartes’ back and tried to gain leverage to escape by pushing off his shoulder. Only for Erriox to growl back something in High Gothic and tighten his grip on her thighs. He deposited her in the bathroom then quickly grabbed his soap and roughly shoved it into her arms, grumbling, “Wash. Again.”

His human stood there in the doorway and looked at him incredulously, “Are you serious? Again? This is ridiculous.”

Erriox took a menacing step forward, “I will bathe you myself if you do not comply.” He briefly thought that his demand seemed strange, but then it made sense in the back of his mind, placating his instincts. 

Even though she only understood a few words of what he growled, his tone of voice and body language said the rest. Lenora sighed exasperatedly, “Fine, I can do it myself.” before backing off and turning around to shower for the second time that day. 

Half an hour later found her clean and dry, again. Erriox yanked her into his lap as she passed by the couch he was on. He casually took off the elastic that kept her bun in place, tossing it onto the coffee table before nuzzling into her hair. Lenora relaxed into his hold, not bothering attempting to escape, knowing how clingy Erriox got when he’s in a mood. Nosing his chest affectionately, she looked up at him. “Better?” She cooed. 

Erriox mumbled an affirmative into her hair, pleased that she now smelled more like himself. Lenora cupped his cheek, stroking the familiar healed over scars. He caught her hand in his and pressed his lips to her palm with such tender reverence, it made her fluster and her cheeks flush with heat. Erriox languidly placed another kiss to her wrist, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement upon hearing her breath hitch and her heart flutter. She giggled lightly. He gazed back at her with a softness and affection that she would have never thought she’d see from a being like him. Lenora hadn’t noticed before, but Erriox’s eyes were this deep blue, almost black colour, like the hue of the ocean before the tempest. Fitting, she thought, as she smiled back warmly, reaching up to kiss an old scar at the corner of his lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her higher up his body; chest rumbling as a deep purr broke out while he nuzzled into her neck. She hummed contentedly, feeling safe and comfortable in his arms.

Lazily tapping his jawline to catch his attention, Lenora asked, “Do you still want to continue language lessons tonight?” Reaching over to grab the datapad on the coffee table. 

“No.” Erriox nipped her neck in response and twisted his body so that she could not reach the datapad, preferring to cuddle his human instead. Lenora squealed and laughed, trapped between the back of the couch and the obstinate Iron Warrior.

“Alright, you scoundrel!” She growled playfully as she struggled to loosen his grip on her in order to get comfortable to no avail.Cheeky bastard! She couldn’t see his expression, but she certainly felt his smirk on her skin!

Lenora pleaded, “Erriox! Release me! Please?” Erriox grinned, finally relinquishing his iron grip to a loose embrace. He didn’t mind seeing her beg (in High Gothic) every once in a while. 

Lenora huffed with exasperation, “It’s not like I’m going to leave. You know that!” before settling herself more comfortably against his warm bulk, mindful of the interface ports on his body. Erriox nosed her crown, nuzzling into her hair and inhaling her (his) scent. His arms around her tightened once more, “I know.” he purred.  

#space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #iron warrior #oc: lenora #oc: erriox #my writing

[purdledooturt]

WIP xDay

SO. @larvasmoon tagged me for WIP Wednesday but I lost track of the days - I'm so sorry!

Anyway, the last WIP I dug up for this turned into a full fic, so I had to find something else to post (we love suffering from success) - please enjoy this excerpt from the Dadstarion fic I'm working on in between other things ❤

Remember That I Love You

His daughter stood on a step stool in front of their mirror, making faces at her own reflection. Astarion, crouched low and armed with sewing pins, looked up to find her scrunching her nose while trying to lift her eyebrows. He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Darling, do be careful or your face will get stuck like that.”

“Would you still love me, Papa?” she asked, and her face broke into a toothy grin as she turned to face him. Gods – with a smile that wide (missing front tooth and all) she looked very much like her mother, who was elsewhere pottering in the house.

The sudden movement made the cloth slip past his fingers. He tutted gently and without any malice, making a note to himself that, all things considered, she’d been unusually patient and still for this alteration session. She apologised, the words coming out almost as a reflex instead of a genuine apology before he turned her towards the mirror once more to continue rolling and pinning a new hem to her new skirt.

“Well?” she prodded again, careful to only turn her head towards him this time.

“My love, there is nothing you can do that will make Papa love you less,” he answered, truthfully and honestly. He loved his daughter unconditionally, and he did not think it initially possible until he had held her in his arms for the first time. “You know, you looked like a prune when you were born but I still loved you then,” he grinned at her, recalling the memory of her birth like it was only yesterday. Every detail came to mind with ease, her arrival to the world a bright flash of light in the timeline of his life. For someone who had been beaten into believing that you would only be valued for what you could give, Astarion found that he loved his wrinkly little child before she could offer him anything at all. “Mama and Papa will always love you.”

She hummed, and it was obvious the seriousness of his declaration went unnoticed. “Even if my face got stuck like… this?” She made another comical face, crossing her eyes and pouting. She looked nothing short of adorable. How could he, with all his sins, have made something so pure? He gave her nose a light tap, amused as her eyes followed the tip of his finger. The action made her break into giggles, which was a sound he wished he could bottle and hold to his heart forever.

“I suppose even then,” he sighed theatrically.

She began swaying side to side, as she put her hands out for him to hold. She was an affectionate child, and he’d found his personal bubble had grown and accounted for the shape of his daughter in it. The alterations were momentarily forgotten, as her skirt swayed side to side, half too long and half just right. “Even if… I don’t eat my vegetables?”

Cheeky thing. “Sure – but we would still give you a talking to, I think.”

“What?” she asked, and she nearly tipped herself off the step stool if not for his hands holding hers. “Papa, if you loved me you wouldn’t give me a talking to.”

Ah, yes – this deviousness could only have been his contribution to the development of their only child. “My sunshine, that’s not how it works,” he replies, “Nice try.”

The prompt came from Cinnamontails's discord (the prompt was provided by myself, and then taken by myself, like a greedy gremlin). As usual, I'm here to promote our little community - please come and join us!

I'm tagging @larvasmoon back, like a cheeky chook. I'd also like to tag @riskpig and @vyjuarts. And also, @bludazey (my love, because I have missed you), and @cinnamontails-ff (because I'm trying to coax more of that Rolan fic out of you, if it wasn't already obvious).

Fingers crossed I'll have something new soon (wink).

#purdle-writes #astarion #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #dadstarion #fic WIP #I'm a sucker for dadstarion truly #astarion fanfic #dadstarion fanfic #soft astarion

[nekoannie-chan]

Regretful words

Pairing: 40!Steve Rogers X 40’s!Reader.

Word count: 819 words.

Summary: Steve didn’t wait for you to take you to the dance.

Warnings: Angst, kind of cheating, feelings of regret.

A/N: This is my entry to @jessybarnes’s Jessy Reaches 500 Followers Writing Challenge with the prompt angst #4:

"I don’t forgive you."

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighsss @marvelatthisonee @caplanbuckybarness @sapphire-rogerss @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot5555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard

The 40's.

The hum of the music echoed, you didn't know where it was coming from, but it wasn't supposed to be loud, so you continued with what you were doing. Steve had his gaze fixed on you.

The tension between you had grown in the last few weeks. Steve was committed to his duties as Captain America often took him away from you. On one such night, he promised you that you would attend the charity ball together, but when the day came, he seemed to change his mind, he didn't even say anything to you, he just left.

You thought maybe he got desperate and went ahead while you finished getting ready, so you arrived at the place alone, but what you saw shocked you. Margaret Carter was holding Steve's arm.

You moved a little closer, and after a few minutes, you found yourself watching from a distance as Steve and Peggy danced, their faces illuminated by the dim light of the room. Tears threatened to blur your eyes.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You left, and when he arrived they would talk, you didn't even know how but throughout your wait, you had a forced smile on your face as you tried to hide the pain.

"Steve," you said in a firm but shaky voice as soon as he arrived, "I never thought you would break a promise."

Steve looked up to meet your eyes full of disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he muttered, a regretful expression on his face. "There was a change of plans, and I thought you'd understand."

You couldn't bear to look at him. "It's not enough, Steve. You promised we'd be together tonight, but it looks like you had a new dance partner. I don't forgive you." With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Steve behind.

The days that followed were a disaster. The unanswered phone calls and unopened letters continued. Steve would try to apologize, to explain, but you wouldn't listen.

A week later, life took an unexpected turn. News of Steve's disappearance spread like wildfire.

In the solitude of your apartment, you found yourself holding one of Steve's unopened letters. Tears were falling on the paper as you read his words of regret and love.

The nights were long and lonely, all you had now were the memories. The tears were constant as you clung to the hope that Steve would return to your side.

Then, one cold morning, a report came into your hands. News of Steve Rogers' death spread quickly and you didn't know what to do.

The impact of the news was devastating. The tears seemed like they would never stop. Memories of nights shared with Steve became more vivid and painful. Every corner of your apartment seemed to whisper his name, now you didn't know what you would do.

You dove into the unopened letters Steve had sent you before his disappearance. Words of love, of regret, of broken promises. The paper seemed to carry with it the echo of his voice, and each word echoed in your mind as if he were there speaking to you. There were moments when you wished you had not said those last words, you wished you could go back and change the course of history.

You found solace in the photographs you had taken together, which were now displayed in every corner of your home.

One melancholy afternoon, while you were looking at one of those photographs, an unexpected visitor arrived. A military officer knocked on your door, holding a small box in his hands.

"My condolences," he murmured as he handed you the box.

Inside the box were personal effects, and a few more medals for Steve's service. His uniform, and his most treasured belongings, were all carefully stored like a treasure trove.

You sat silently, staring at the box as if it might reveal some secret that would help you understand what had happened. Among his belongings, you found a letter Steve had written shortly before his last mission. Your trembling hands opened the envelope, and his words filled the air.

"Dear Y/N,

If you're reading this, it means things didn't go as we had hoped. I want you to know that every day away from you was a day filled with regret. I made mistakes, and I am deeply sorry. The night of the dance, I didn't mean to hurt you, but I can't change the past. I just want you to remember the good times, and I hope someday you can forgive me. My heart will always belong to you, even beyond this world.

Love, Steve."

The tears came back to your eyes. The regret in his writing was palpable, and you wondered if things might have been different if you had known earlier how he felt.

Now you didn't know how to go on with your life in a world without Steve.

#jessybarnesreaches500 #steve rogers x reader

[wielderofthechainsaw]

IM GONNA GO ON A RAMBLE ABOUT BARNABY BECAUSE I FUCUCUCIDUUDIDUD ARE UP IR LOVE GIM

OK

So

IM BEING SO FR BARNABY IS THE BEST BBU CHARACTER AND I HAVE VALID REASONING

HE HAS A CASTLE/MANOR LIKE BUDDYS RICH AF FOR THAT HE GOT FUCKING CUSTOM COFFIN WINDOWS AND EVERYTHING HUBBA HUBBA 😍(BIG J I DONT SIMP FOR HIM)

HE GOES BY ALL PRONOUNS LIKE A BADDIE LIKE HES A OARTY PLANNER HE DOESNT HAVE TIME FOR PRONOUNS YOU WOKE BASTARDS

AUTISTIC KING😝😝😝

HIS LAUGH IS MADE OF SILLY LITTLE OWL HOOTS ITS SO CUTE

HE WEARS PINK. AND I MEAN A BEAUTIFUL SHADE OF PINK LIKE LOOK

ITS SO PRETTY I CANT😭🙏

6. HES PLAYED BY ALASTORS OLD SINGING VOICE AND HAS A SUPER WIDE VOCAL RANGE BECAUSE HES A THESPIAN

7. TRAUMA🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

8. HIS MOUTH AND EYES ARE INSPIRED BY JACK-O-LANTERNS AND ITS SO COOL

9. HIS SONG IS DTRAIGHT FIRE IM LISTENING TO IT AS I TYPE THIS 🔥🔥

10. No seriously listen to it its called “a million gruesome ways to die” its on Spotify an dyoutube

11. HE’LL KILL YOU FREE OF CHARGE LIKE ZAMN HONEY I CAN STAY IN YOUR CASTLE FOR THE LOW PRICE OF MY MORTALITY AWOOGA 😘😘😘😘

12. HE USED TO BE OBSESSED WITH CHEMISTRY AND SCIENCE AND FANCY CHEESES AND ITS SO CUTE

FUCK HES SO SILLY OK OK MOVING ON

13. HE HAS THESE LITTLE ASSISTANTS CALLED BARNABOOS AND IM GONNA FUCKING KILL MYSELF BECASUE THAT NAME IS BOMB DIGGITY🤭🤭🤭

14. HE LOOKS LIKE A HARPY EAGLE LOWKEY EVEN THOUGH HES AN OWL SO THATS TWO OF MY FAV BIRDS IN ONE WTFFFFF

^ fullscreen to see what i mean

15. MY HANDS ARE STARTKNG TO CRAMP DO THISLL BE THE LAST ONE BUT HIS BOWTIE IN-GAME LOOKS LIKE MINNIE MOUSES LOWKEY

OK BYE

EDIT: MY HANDS FEEL BETTER AND I HAVE MORE

16: HE CAN HOLD HIS TRUSTY KNIFE WITH HIS FEET LIKE A GIRLBOSS BECAUSE ITS HARD TO HOLD THINGS WITH HIS WINGS IG

17. HE CAN STRETCH HIS LIMBS AND NECK LIKE ELASTAGIRL OR WHATEVER HER NAME IS

18. I LOVE HALLOWEEN AND HIS ENTIRE THEME IS HALLOWEEN AND THATS SO CUTE IMO

19. THERES A VIDEO ON THE OFFICAL BBU CHANNEL OF HIM BEING A JUDGE AND SCREAMS “SHUT UP!” TO THE JURY OF HIS BARNABOOS AND ITS SO SILLY

20. I LIKE TALL MEN AND BUDDYS PROBABLY OVER 60 FEET TALL

21. HIS VOICE IS SO CUTE

22. HERES A DRAWING OF HIM I MADE TO SHOW HOW BESUTIFUL HE IS (his face is right side up on purpose btw)

OK THATS ALL FOR NOW, DEUCES‼️

Tell me why two barnaby rp accounts liked this post

@an-theduckin i remember you saying you wnated me to tag you in my rambles so here you go

#bbu barnaby #bbucommunity #billie bust up barnaby #billie bust up #rambles #rambling #rant post #good rant though #i love him #/them #/her #AWOOGA (/j) #Theres a million #Gruesome ways to die #HES ALSO A PARTY PLANNER #AND THE GRIM REAPER OF THE GAME #BASICALLY #HE HAS A OARTY THING #BUT TO GRT IN #YOU HAVE TO LET HIM KILL YOU #I WOULD #HAHA #peter griffin death pose #AAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAA

[almost-a-class-act]

hi I saw your recent post in the tag, so um are you taking Givenson prompts? bc if you are can I request a "9. . .out of fear" from that "things you said" list please? I hope that's okay!

Hello! Thanks for the request! I am just now finding my way in the Justified fandom so I'm excited to hear from new pals.

The prompt was: "Things you said out of fear"

--

It’s the second hat Raylan has lost to a bullet, an “if I had a nickel” sort of situation if ever there was one – except that he’d been able to play down the first one pretty effectively on account of no one currently alive in Harlan County having been there to see it except Loretta.

The second time, he isn’t so lucky.

The sequence of events, as described to him afterward – they’re somewhat muddled in his own recollection, for obvious reasons – are as follows. The bullet passes through his hat, not quite clean, grazing his head. Raylan goes down, as does the fellow who took the shot (cheap, through a window while Raylan stood on the porch), because taking the shot had given him away and Tim needs less than that to punch a ticket at four hundred meters.

By the time he sits up, people are running, which is a relief because it means the situation is going to be handled by someone other than him. Getting shot in the head is no less disorienting than it had been the first time, the sort of thing where you’re scared to touch it in case it’s so much worse than you think. Tim is running, too, and he hurtles up onto the porch, one knee coming down hard on the wood so that he can hunch in and comb away the hair that’s hiding the wound spilling blood down Raylan’s face.

“Think you’re gonna live?” Tim asks, tone as even as it always is, even as his fingertips press into Raylan’s scalp, checking for himself.

“For my sins,” Raylan replies. “Ouch. Do you mind?”

“Looks okay,” Tim says, ignoring him. “Some stitches, maybe.”

Everything is a churn around them, and Raylan patiently lets an EMT with much gentler hands deal with the wound while Tim leaves the porch to congregate in a group with Art and Rachel, within eyesight. Once the bandage is in place, Raylan figures he’s got the okay to do the paperwork on this one tomorrow, and catches Tim’s eye.

They’re only just outside of Lexington, which means the drive isn’t the long slog from Harlan County, and they’re home in twenty minutes. Raylan has a hunch that Tim has a rant locked and loaded, but on the drive all he engages in is a smattering of shop talk – not uncommon for them, to be fair.

In the apartment, Raylan makes his way in the dark to the kitchen, searching out bourbon to cure what ails him. He can see Tim through the doorway to the living room out of the corner of his eye, yanking the curtains across, stopping to scratch the cat behind the ears.

Tim used to closed the curtains on Raylan’s bedroom window every time he came by, too. There aren’t any sightlines to worry about in the apartment they live in now, but it seems to be a force of habit anyway.

And then the light comes on, and Tim is leaning in the kitchen doorway.

“Shoot,” Raylan says, holding up the bottle mutely to ask if Tim wants a pour. He shakes his head.

“Don’t ask me to cover you and then do dumbass shit like stand out in the open.”

“I wasn’t doing dumbass shit,” Raylan says patiently.

“You could teach a college course in doing dumbass shit. Do you think if I wanted to live with anyone else, I’d be living with you?” Tim demands. “You use my mouthwash and you keep letting the cat out.”

“By accident.”

“The circumstances of the situation don’t matter. The cat is still outside at the end.”

Raylan is not going to smile, because Tim is clearly very serious about this, but sometimes the things that come out of Tim’s mouth are very… well, Tim. “Are you telling me not to get myself killed because I’m your last resort?”

“I’m telling you not to get shot in the head.”

He turns and vanishes from the doorway. Raylan has stopped with his glass halfway to his mouth.

“Tim.”

There’s no response, and Raylan drains his glass and follows after. He finds him in the bedroom, enacting the same routine as every night, the same things he would do in the same order no matter the circumstances: Boots, watch, clothes come off, putting on that soft, worn-in Dragonriders of Pern t-shirt and shorts, disappearing into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He always looks young in pajamas, standing at the sink with toothbrush in hand, and Raylan starts to reach for him because sometimes those odd, tense lines in his body don’t go away on their own.

“Don’t touch me,” Tim says pointedly, around his toothbrush, and Raylan redirects.

When they get into bed, sometimes Tim stays up to read while Raylan dozes next to him, but tonight he braces up on his elbow and turns off the light. There might be forty-five seconds of silence, and then Tim rolls over and tucks a proprietary arm around Raylan’s middle, tugging him in until he has Raylan bundled in clumsily against his chest. Raylan lets himself be big-spooned, though he can’t help his bemusement.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you.”

“This is me touching you,” Tim mumbles into the back of his neck.

“Got it.”

“Go to sleep." The edge in Tim's voice from before has gone down a little. Now I can keep you where I can see you. “You do less dumbass shit when you’re sleeping.”

#givenson #justified #tim gutterson #raylan givens #fanfiction #roaroftheninth

[caffeinewitchcraft]

I’ll be starting to post my daily writing warm ups here in a week or so and just want to share what that’s going to look like first

1) for me, writing warm ups range from about 200-1500 words of incomplete stories or experiments specifically written to improve various aspects of my writing. Sometimes it will be technical, other times it will be about storytelling, other times it will be to untangle an idea that isn’t quite a story yet

2) These posts will be tagged “caffeine warms up” for those who’d like to block that daily post. Because many of them will be incomplete stories, I totally get not wanting to engage! All of my complete stories or chapters of stories will still be tagged “my writing”

3) the purpose is to both hold myself accountable for my daily practice (and isn’t posting to the internet the most accountable? Lol) and to show what I mean when I say “daily writing practice”

I do receive a lot of messages (that are very sweet!) from people who want to write like me or who would like advice on things they feel I do well in my stories. My answer these days is always “practice.”

The most common pieces of advice I see on Tumblr are to “read more often” and “exorcise your self doubt.” Those are both very important things to do, obviously, but I’ll go to my grave saying this:

Writing is a skill. Storytelling is a skill. Making them go together? That’s a skill.

And skills need practice.

There are a lot of valuable tips and tricks from writing blogs on this site. Practice them. I’ll be using a few of those posts as writing warmups as well

#caffeine chatter #long post #caffeine warms up #writblr #writing advice #(I’ll be posting them all together to Patreon first in a weekly post then daily here)

[avanatural]

Mind Games

Part 5

Series summary: Set in 1984. It’s that time of the year – the supes are having the time of their lives at the Herogasm festival. Soldier Boy seems to have taken a special interest in Y/N, a fellow superhero.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x female Reader

Category: Angst, little bit of fluff, 18+

Word count: 4.2k

Chapter warnings: Mentions of disordered eating and mental abuse, sexual harassment, heavy drinking, mentions of drugs, mentions of masturbation

A/N: Welcome to part 5! There’s tension between Y/N and Ben, but who knows? They might actually warm up to each other some more 😉 I hope you enjoy. Wanna be added to my Soldier Boy tag list? Send me an ask ❤️

Part 4 | Series Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“I’m fine,” I grunted out an obvious lie and pulled my white leather dress down my thighs, adjusting my seated position.

“Hm-mh…,” he hummed, taunting me with that guttural voice, “Are you jealous? That your sister beat you to finding out my name?” The grin that widened across his mouth begged me to slap it off his face.

Soldier Boy… Excuse me, Ben and I were sitting under obnoxiously bright lights, on a hard expensive couch, cameras ready to roll, waiting for the talk show host to join us in the studio.

“Look, I’m tired,” I mumbled, blinking my heavy eyelids and meeting his pompous gaze, “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Christ on a cross,” he breathed, leaning back a little to get a closer look at me was a whole. His apple green eyes were roaming my face through the slits of his helmet. “Where’s the fucking fire in your eyes?”

Instead of replying, I fled into my own head. Unfortunately, my nerves were soaring and I couldn’t manipulate myself into a calmer state of mind. I didn’t know if I could credibly pretend to be over the moon about Payback Rising. But I had to force myself to. The future of my bank account depended on this. My sister’s future depended on this.

“Seriously, though,” Ben suddenly spoke up again, startling my tense body and my racing mind, “Lily’s a good kid. You’re doin’ a nice job.”

My eyebrows lowered as I examined his face, searching for any hint, any sign that he might be messing with me. Imagine my surprise when realization finally hit me – he wasn’t playing. It was a truthful fucking compliment. I opened my mouth, about to thank him, but I didn’t get to.

The host dropped down on the armchair opposite us, holding a bunch of note cards in her hands, instantly receiving a touch-up from the make-up artist. Her blazer and pencil skirt made me feel underdressed. Though I had to admit, her shoulder pads were massive enough to rival Ben’s armor. 

Well, here goes nothing, I thought to myself. A few dreadful heartbeats and quick “hellos” later, the show’s quirky introduction melody rang through the studio, sealing my fate. There was no way out now.

“Welcome to Power Hour! I’m your host, Amanda Donaldson. And today, I brought lots of juicy news for you to enjoy! First and foremost, I have two very special guests here with me. They’re gorgeous, they’re talented, and they’re superheroes! Vought legend Soldier Boy and rising underdog Trouble!”

A round of pre-taped applause supported Amanda’s upbeat announcement. I wanted to roll my eyes so badly that I had to bite my tongue to refrain from doing so.

Ben, on the contrary, wore a smirk on his face that ranged from one ear to the other. “It’s good to be back!”, he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

“It’s good to see you again! And you brought a new guest to our show!” Amanda turned to me with her million-dollar smile. “Trouble, thank you for being here!”

“Thank you for having me,” I said, nodding politely at the host.

“You just landed your very first role in a Vought movie! How exciting is that?”

“Oh, it’s incredible!”, I replied, trying my best to keep up with the two professional grinners, “I still can’t believe I got to work with the greatest superheroes in the world. It baffles me, truly.”

Amanda turned to Ben. “Soldier Boy, what has it been like working with Trouble?”

“Oh, we had a blast! This one right ‘ere…” He pointed his thumb at me and leaned forward in the host’s direction, hypnotizing her with his sparkling green gems. “Made the rest of us look like amateurs. Let me tell ya. She only needed one take for her scene.” He leaned back again and lifted his pointer finger. “One take!”

My shoulder twitched against his as I laughed for the camera. “Only because you made it easy for me.” 

Ben looked at me when I addressed him, a cocky smile on his face, licking his lips. 

“I felt so comfortable on set that nothing could go wrong, really,” I added, not missing the way my colleague was basking in my compliments.

“What can I say? You’re a natural,” he said, planting his hand on top of mine, which was resting in my lap. His voice dropped, the tone so pleasant yet menacing that his next words froze the blood in my veins. “Made for the game.”

I paused, not knowing what to say. His hand tightened around mine, trapping me in his hold. His eyes were like bear traps, snapping me into place. 

“Wow, you two have chemistry!”, Amanda barged into our staring match like a hound smelling blood, “Which is not surprising, I mean, aside from your homage to Trouble on Solid Gold,” she spoke, lifting her hand in Ben’s direction, “We’ve been granted a behind-the-scenes peek of the Payback Rising set. And it looks intimate.”

The host pulled out a copy of the picture of Ben and I that had made it into the newspapers. Of course, she was gonna do that. The photograph of him carrying me was accompanied by a cheering track. “Can the two of you walk us through what’s going on here?”, she asked.

“Ha-ha, I see what you’re doin’ there, Mandy.” Ben let go of my hand to point at Amanda and gave her a charming wink. “You never fail to tickle information out of me, sweetheart.”

She giggled, trapped like a little rat in his mace. “You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“I’m afraid we can’t say anything until the movie is released,” I chimed in, shrugging my shoulders as apologetically as possible.

“So, you can’t give us anything official,” Amanda acknowledged, “But maybe we can discuss something a little more… private.”

“Like what?”, I asked, trying to keep the smile on my face even though every fiber of my being was telling me to get out of there.

“Well, your dating lives are very much a topic of public interest. People are speculating around the clock. You got yourselves a ‘will-they-won’t they’-type situation. Your fans would love to see you two together! Is there any chance of that happening?”

“Oh, Amanda, don’t put us on the spot like that,” Ben said with an angelic, exaggerated chuckle, “You’re gonna make us blush.”

“We’re just friends,” I stated, cutting through his innocent act.

“Close friends,” Ben corrected me with a pointed look to my face.

“You sure it’s not more than that?”, Amanda questioned, eyeing us with a hawk’s unwavering focus.

“I guess we’ll see,” Soldier Boy spoke, directing a playful wink at the camera that was surely going to keep the audience on their toes.

A week later

Tossing my head back, I emptied the shot glass into my throat. Lily was at a sleepover with her friends, and I desperately needed some time to unwind. The talk show had been a huge success. The only place I could unwind now without being fawned over was the underground supe bar.

But down there, things weren’t exactly calm, either. The air was flooded with tension. I slammed my empty glass onto the bar, my gaze wandering back to the two supes I’d been watching – an older guy and a young woman.

The guy was a shapeshifter, borrowing the meatsuit of a middle-aged, successful, well-groomed businessman. He was getting a little too comfortable with the young woman. Palm on her hip, wearing a dirty smirk on his face while the girl wore a frown on her own. One wrong move, and I was gonna turn his brain to mush.

He leered at the young woman, flashing his thousand-watt smile as he tried to claim her mouth. She leaned back on instinct, trying to escape his grip, and I decided I’d seen enough.

My eyes lit up, glowing with anger, as I took over the shifter’s head. The confused expression on his face was priceless. He had zero clue what was going on. Game on, you prick. He turned crimson when I replayed his most embarrassing secret not just in his mind, but also in the minds of his drinking buddies. Apparently, he’d peed himself during a sexual encounter at Herogasm. My tongue peeked through my teeth as I chuckled to myself.

The shapeshifter put his fingers on his temples, wondering where the banging headache and the intense memories were suddenly coming from, and why his friends were laughing at him.

The young woman stepped away from the shifter and met my gaze. I could see a look of relief and recognition pass her pale face. She nodded at me and hurried to the exit. 

Unfortunately for us women, male supes behaved like that a lot. They were a lot more powerful than your average Joe, and too many of them loved to show it.

“You!”

I turned my head to see the shapeshifter staring at me, red-faced, the veins in his neck about to burst with fury. “Hm?”

“You think this is funny?”, he barked, making himself taller by straightening his back.

I shrugged my shoulders. In situations like that, it was best to remain calm. “I do, yeah.” Oh, and to provoke. You couldn’t pick a fight and walk away. With supes, the only way out was through.

“You little cunt! I’m gonna fucking end you-“

I could feel the muscles bulge in my jaw. “I see you treat a woman like that again, you’re dead,” I threatened, “You understand?”

“Oh, someone’s about to be dead.” The shapeshifter started rolling up his sleeves. His nostrils were flaring along with his angry breaths.

“We got a fucking problem here?”, a gruff voice entered our little argument. His heavy footsteps echoed through the bar, silencing those around him. His wide shoulders entered my line of vision, filling my sight completely as he stepped in front of me – Soldier Boy.

Ben radiated authority, despite only wearing half his suit. He’d lost the protective gear on his head and legs, as well as his shield and his other weapons. But the angered look on his face showed he meant business.

“N-no,” the shapeshifter started to ramble, “No problem here. All good.” He gulped, his Adam’s apple dancing with worry.

Ben aimed a glove-clad finger at the shapeshifter. “I see you gettin’ outta line again-“

“I won’t. I won’t, Soldier Boy,” the shifter assured him. After some meaningless sucking up, he left, and the women in the bar could breathe again. Everyone went on about their business as though nothing had happened.

Ben claimed the stool next to me, pushing out a groan of comfort as he got settled at the bar. “Didn’t expect to see Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes in this fucking dump.”

I blinked at him with a bewildered expression. “Goody-Two-Shoes?”

“You’re called Trouble. And I’m wonderin’ why.” He shrugged his massive shoulders, side-eying me with hooded eyes. “One would think you’re more intimidating. A lot fucking worse than… this.”

“Excuse me?”

“You could’ve killed the guy.” Ben tilted his head toward the exit of the bar. “Would probably have been the better choice ‘cause scum like that tends to retaliate. If you want respect, you gotta live up to your reputation. Fuck shit up.” His face was slightly flushed, and his brick wall of a body moved more fluidly than usual, making me wonder how long he’d already been drinking. “But instead, you’re a caregiver who saves damsels in distress and makes assholes blush,” he cackled, flashing his pearly whites.

“You know what…” I paused, trying to find my defiance, but it evaporated with my next sharp exhale. My heart was yearning for some peace of mind. Just for one night. “I really don’t have it in me to bicker tonight.” I waved at the bartender to pour me another shot.

Ben raised his giant hand along with mine, signaling for the bartender to make that two. “Wow. A woman keeping quiet,” he praised sourly, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Wow. A man being sexist. How original,” I shot back. So much for peace. Ben could lure my fire back to the surface like no one else. I had to give him that.

Instead of lashing out at me, he just cocked his head and chuckled. He seemed oddly satisfied with my response. “Atta girl.”

“Ben… You can leave,” I huffed, eyeing him over my shoulder after pushing my key into the lock. “You didn’t have to walk me all the way home.”

“Are you kiddin’ me? That’s what a man does.” When I stepped into my apartment, Ben squeezed himself through the narrow doorframe and passed me in the tight hallway. It only took him a few steps to take in the entire view of my small living space. He let out a low whistle as he looked around. “This is where you live?”

“Yeah.” I shut the door and joined him in the living room. With sarcasm running through my veins, I raised my arms and feigned a smile. “Welcome to my humble home.”

“This is…” His freckle-stained nose wrinkled. “A fucking disgrace.”

“That’s one way to put it.” When his disappointed frown turned to face me, I snapped, “I’m working on it, okay?”

He nodded his head at Lily’s bedroom. “Your sister home?” The door war closed, so I had no clue how the hell he could tell it was her room.

“No.” I shook my head, reaching for the whiskey bottle on one of the bookshelves in the living room. “I wouldn’t leave her by herself.”

He scoffed and planted himself in front of the window, staring down at the colorless yard of the apartment complex. “What is she, three years old? Nobody gave a shit about my whereabouts when I was her age.”

My brows knitted. “Are we really gonna talk about how we grew up?”, I asked with a joking undertone, but I was secretly dreading that kind of conversation.

Slowly, Ben turned around on his bowed legs, palms on his hips. Under the pale lights, he looked like a gigantic replica of the little superhero action figures in Lily’s room. “Oh, we’re gonna need more booze for that,” he claimed, pointing at the liquor bottle in my grasp, batting those damn eyelashes at me.

I sized him up, wondering if it was a good idea to have fucking Soldier Boy as my guest. But I was seriously starting to doubt that he was ever going to kill me. Somehow, I doubted he even had it in him. 

“Alright, fine,” I sighed out, placing the bottle on the couch table with a dull clinking sound, “Make yourself at home.”  

Ben licked his lips, pleased by my invitation. He sat down on the worn couch, grinding his jaw when he sank lower than he expected to. “You need to fucking move,” he groused like a spoiled child.

I placed a glass in front of each of us, then let myself drop onto the cushion next to him. “Do you insult the homes of all the people you visit?”

“Ha. No, I, uh…,” he trailed off, looking lost in thought, and then suddenly cleared his throat. “Never mind.” He reached out his hand and wiggled his thick fingers, silently telling me to turn over the booze.

With my heart sinking in an odd way, I concluded that not a lot of people invited him to their homes and gave him the bottle. Maybe he needed the alcohol even more than I did. I waited for my turn while he poured himself a generous shot.

“You ever see the Soldier Boy story?”, Ben asked, handing me the bottle, and then proceeded to swallow his shot whole.

“Are you kidding me?”, I retorted, filling my own tumbler, “They show that movie in schools to this day. A poor child from South Philly finds out he’s got magical powers to match his heart of gold.” With an exaggerated movement, I put my right hand over my heart while my left hand lifted my shot glass to my lips.

“Yeah, well… It’s a load of bullshit,” he grumbled and spilled a fresh amber pool of liquor into his tumbler.

“You mean you don’t have a heart of gold?”, I asked, feigning shock. 

The way he narrowed his eyes at me could have scared me, but it only made me smile. And I could have sworn that his mouth twitched, too.

“My father owned half the steel mills in the state,” he revealed, “I never lived in the streets, was never poor. Vought made all that shit up.”

I nodded to myself. The man that I’d admired growing up was nothing more than a false myth. A bedtime story. Instead of being a true hero, he really was the spoiled child he came off as. “Well… I can’t say that I’m surprised,” I muttered, “It seems all Vought cares about is profit.”

“They’re gonna do the same fucking thing to you,” he said, his bitter face meeting mine, “They’re probably gonna invent some kind of… sob story to raise your popularity. If our love story ain’t enough, that is. You should up your fucking game on that one.”

“Love story, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t see that one comin’,” he taunted, his lips curling into a half-grin. “To be popular, you need to either be loved or hated. Vought is starting to consider the American Sweetheart narrative for you. That’s what The Legend’s hopin’ for, anyway.”

I chewed on my lower lip, staring at nothing in particular, mind draped in floating thoughts. Maybe there was someone to support me, to root for me, after all. Maybe I could really pull it all off somehow. Become one of the greater supes. And it was fucking Soldier Boy, of all people, who was pushing me over the edge toward ambition. 

“If the Soldier Boy story is nothing but a bunch of lies… Then what’s your real story?”, I inquired.

He huffed and downed yet another shot. With a hiss, he slammed the tumbler onto the couch table. “My father sent me to boarding school. Bein’ away from home was… the best damn time of my life.” His body froze like a perfect painting, emerald eyes turning glassy. It was only after he cleared his throat that he continued, “I got kicked out of boarding school ‘cause I was a fuck-up. So… Back home, it was. Father said I was a disappointment. That I didn’t deserve to carry his name.” Another pause. Another far-away look in his face. “That didn’t change when I became a fucking superhero.”

I tried catching his eye, but failed due to the pain he was trying to hide away. “How did you become a supe?”

“Went to my father’s golf buddies in the war department,” he scoffed, “Got injected with some blue substance, and voilà, Soldier Boy was born. I became the strongest fucking man alive, and… it still wasn’t good enough for my old man.” When he finally looked up, he’d blinked away the salty shimmers, but there were still golden specks of sorrow in those green orbs. “I hate to break it to you, princess, but none of us are born superheroes.”

“I know.”

He arched his eyebrows at my reply.

“My dad, he…” My chest expanded and shrunk as I recalled how my father had told me about the drug I’d been given as a baby. “He told me about Compound V. When I was eleven, I think.”

“Your old man still around?”

“No.”

“Was he good to you?”, Ben wondered casually, but the way he studied my face told me he was indeed curious.

“Yeah.” The corners of my lips bent upward as I remembered some happier moments of my childhood. “My father… He loved my powers. But he loved me more.” My eyes started to burn with tears, the air started to hurt in my lungs, and I tried to keep myself under control. “Sometimes, when my mother put me on yet another diet, he would slip me candy bars and money for proper food.” 

While I spoke, Ben was just observing me. Not mocking me, not moving in any way, surprisingly just waiting.

“My mother, she…,” I went on, “Ugh, she wanted a perfect little Miss Superhero. Dragged me to all the pageants. When I think back, I can still smell the goddamn hairspray and hear the mothers yell at their daughters. I never lived up to my mom’s expectations. I was never talented enough, polite enough, or pretty enough.”

He hummed quietly to himself, and I wasn’t sure anymore if he was caught up in my story or his own.

My lips sagged as I continued, “So, I got frustrated and just… Started working against her. I got into fights, started taking drugs, shoplifted. She loved my powers. But she hated me.” My gaze dropped to my wildly fidgeting fingers, and I cracked my knuckles in an attempt to self-soothe. “She made sure I knew I was a fuck-up. She would turn in her grave if she could see that I’m the one raising Lily now.”

Ben sighed through his pursed mouth and raised his glass to me. “To fucked-up parenting.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and bumped my glass against his. “To fucked-up parenting.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, we were wired to the fucking gills,” Ben chuckled, comfortably buzzed. His cheeks wore a freckled tinge of red, and he’d taken off his gloves.

“Holy shit!”, I cried out and downed the light brown liquid in my glass once more. 

Though, let’s be honest, I should’ve stopped drinking quite a while ago. My mind was foggy, yet excited, and my body felt drowsy. Don’t get me wrong, I was a fun drunk. But also a reckless one. I made bad decisions if I crossed that line from tipsy to wasted. And I hadn’t just tiptoed along that line, like I’d told myself I would. I had crossed it with a powerful somersault to the deep end.

“You disappointed?”, he questioned, examining my flushed face.

“What?”, I mumbled, turning to fully face him, sitting cross-legged on the couch, the shoes missing from my feet.

He cocked his head and said, “They say never meet your fucking idols for a reason.”

“Who said you were my idol?”, I babbled, close to laughing again. Why was everything so funny when I was drunk?

Ben raised one of his eyebrows at me, his head moving backward in surprise, creating half a double chin on his upper throat. 

I paused for a second and realized just how close we were sitting to each other. Even offended, he was gorgeous. On the outside, at least.

“Alright, fine. I used to have a poster of you,” I confessed through a tiny embarrassed fit of laughter. Blame it on the whiskey. It made me chatty.

“Ha! For real?”, he exclaimed, a genuine gleam of interest flashing through his eyes.

“Yeah… It was a rare one, too. Aaall my friends were jealous.” Having lost my sensitivity for personal space, I leaned forward a little too far, leaving only a few inches of alcohol breaths between us. “My green wallpaper really brought out the color of your eyes.”

His gaze fell to my mouth. It was just a tiny, soft movement, but its impact on the atmosphere was harsh like the slap of a whip. “You ever touched yourself to the thought of me?”, he questioned, then sunk his teeth into his plump lip.

“You have no shame, do you?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The corner of his mouth pulled up, lining his face with a drowsy half-smirk. He tilted his face so that he could look directly into my eyes. “I’ve certainly beat my meat thinkin’ ‘bout that pretty little cunt of yours.”

His raspy tone shot a hot shiver down my body. The sparks even reached the tips of my fucking toes. I dragged my tongue along my lower lip. His hungry gaze followed the pink muscle. “You have?”  

Blunt fingertips met my cheekbone with the softest of touches. They skimmed along my skin with great care, latching on to some rogue strands of hair to place them behind my ear.  “Ever since I had you in my fucking trailer, I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” his captivating voice admitted, urging me to believe him.

Oh boy, charm-alert. I was a weak woman. Longing to be held, even more so when I was intoxicated. And there was a well-built, handsome man sitting on my couch, making advances at me.

When I got up, the alcohol swirled around in my system, and I stumbled a little.

“Whoa, princess, you’re fucking wasted, aren’t you?” His hands steadied me by my hips as I climbed onto his lap. Amusement overtook his face. “Maybe it’s time for a little nap.”

“You wanna come to bed with me?”, I whispered against his bearded cheek.

His gravelly, honey-coated chuckles touched my very core. Then suddenly, he hauled me up along with him, holding me up by the backs of my thighs. My legs wound around his middle as he carried me to my bedroom. I pressed my lips to his neck to stop more drunk giggles from coming out.

Tag list: @akshi8278 @leigh70 @impalaslytherin @mimzy1994 @asgardiandeadpoetsociety​ @panhufflestugf @spnwoman​ @themerc-with-a-mouth​ @waynes-multiverse​ @tzillas​ @josephslittlemetalballs​ @deliriouslybi​ @ryethebrokengae​ @epiphany-of-a-madwoman​ @rach5ive​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @may85​ @jassackles​ @mimaria420​ @calsjack @gingersass​ @madigabiab @tmb510​ 

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy #soldier boy x y/n #the boys fanfiction