GIMME BUCKY HELD CAPTIVE BY SHIELD BEING SAD AND MISERABLE AND CLAWING AT THE WALLS TO LET HIM OUT THEN GO COMPLETELY PLIANT. I WANT BUCKY DESPERATE AND ANIMALISTIC FROM FEA.R MAKE ME WEEP
His fingertips are leaving red streaks on the wall by now. His fingernails are either worn down to ragged stumps of torn out completely, and the flashes of raw pain as he tries to claw his way out of the padded room are the only things keeping him tied to his body. He could sink back into the darkness, he wants to, but he’s too confused and terrified to hide inside the blank spaces of his brain right now.
“Please, please don’t leave me here.” He’d started out shouting, screaming himself hoarse when he first woke up in the bland, neutral room designed so he can’t hurt himself or escape. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he woke but it feels like hours, hours of nothing but his own yelling until his voice faded to begging, pleading. Weak and useless. “I’ll be good. Please, I’ll be good. Please don’t leave me.”
The silence is overwhelming, and he sinks down to the floor as sobs start to wrack his body. He doesn’t care if they punish him, if they fuck him or beat him or whatever they can think of to make him pay, not so long as he knows there’s still someone out there listening. They’d threatened him with it before, that’d they’d leave him awake in cryo and let him lose his mind alone in a box. For decades, if they felt like it. If he wasn’t good.
“Steve?” He chokes out, the zing of fear spreading over his skin immediately because he knows he’s not allowed to say that. He’s not supposed to let them know he remembers that name, or he gets the chair again. But even bringing back his hallucination of a little blond kid would be better than being alone. “Steve, please? Don’t leave me here, I wanna go home.”
He doesn’t know what home is, he doesn’t remember having one. But he suddenly wants a lot of things he doesn’t understand. Things like home and mom and Steve.
“Please!” He tries to punch the wall with his buckled fingers, totally off-balance and vulnerable with the dead weight of his deactivated arm. There’s nobody coming and he slams his forehead against the wall and howls with the fear of being left to his shattered mind for good. “Steve! Please!”
Steve reaches out and touches the monitor screen, shaking fingertips on Bucky’s back like he can help him from here. Natasha puts her hand on his arm and tries to guide him away, but Steve shrugs her off viciously. There’s a very tenuous thread of self-control keeping him from busting in there this second, and the SHIELD techs watching the security feed like Bucky’s a lab rat aren’t helping.
“He doesn’t know what he’s saying, he doesn’t know you.” Nat says, low and soft, but it doesn’t do shit to calm Steve down. “Once they’re sure he’s not bluffing they-”
“Bluffing? He’s bleeding from trying to get out, he’s so scared.” Steve rounds on her, and there’s a moment of suspension, of awful stillness. Bucky is screaming in a cage and Steve-
He catches Sam’s eye across the room, and Sam nods. He’s got his back, he knows a good soldier never leaves a man behind, and he’s knows what it’s like to see someone you love spiralling towards the ground. They can get Bucky out together, whatever happens after has to be better than this.
Steve takes a breath, takes a beat, and then moves.
Levi whines and shifts, but he doesn’t waken. Erwin’s lips curve into a smile against the back of Levi’s neck and he presses his nose into the smooth hair of his undercut where he’s been planting kisses for the last five minutes. He slides his hand down over Levi’s belly, cupping him between his thighs; he’s still limp from sleep and Erwin can hold him completely in one hand. He squeezes gently and a soft moan escapes from Levi’s lips. Erwin loves to feel him like this; warm, sleepy and pliant.
Erwin shifts his attention from Levi’s neck to his ear peppering kisses across the sensitive skin as he goes. He’s conscious of morning breath so he doesn’t talk, doesn’t breathe too heavily, just kisses. Levi is still asleep but his eyelids are starting to flutter and Erwin props himself up on one elbow watching, waiting for him to surface into consciousness. He squeezes between Levi’s thighs again, feeling the heat and hardness growing beneath his palm. Levi shifts, yawns and stretches like a contented cat.
“Morning Levi,” Erwin smiles down at him.
Levi cracks one eye open and hums quietly in response, somewhere between a growl and a purr. He stretches again and rolls over onto his front trapping Erwin’s hand beneath him. Erwin returns to Levi’s neck, kissing downwards, sucking a bruise into his nape. Levi is fully hard now, he cants his hips up a little to allow Erwin’s hand room to move but otherwise he lies completely still, too sleepy to be actively involved in morning sex, but making his willingness clear nevertheless. Erwin’s hand is moving with more purpose now and he’s fully hard himself. Levi sighs, louder now, but still not fully conscious.
“Shhh, Levi,” Erwin whispers against the back of his neck. “I’ve got you.”
He slides his hand out from beneath Levi and runs his palm over the smooth tight curve of his ass before reaching for the open bottle of oil still lying on the bedside table from the night before. He sits up for a moment to slick his fingers up before returning his attention to Levi’s ass. He slides his fingers down and in, Levi shifts his thighs apart and exhales a soft groan.
“Shush, it’s all right, I’ll take care of you.”
Levi’s hot and tight but he’s so relaxed there’s no resistance. He still doesn’t move, just lies there, motionless and pliant as Erwin works his fingers into him stretching him open. It turns Erwin’s head, this stillness, this trust, this yielding compliance, it’s so at odds with the defensive guarded façade that Levi presents to the world. The fact that Levi surrenders to him so completely, so willingly, drives him wild and he aches to possess him.
Levi groans, louder this time, as Erwin pulls his fingers away, but the sound lowers into a deep satisfied growl as Erwin’s settles his body over him and he pushes inside in a long slow thrust.
He holds Levis hands above his head, fingers intertwined whilst they fuck, all the time whispering nonsense into Levi’s ear.
“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re doing good, you’re doing so good.”
Levi whines in response and Erwin looses it. He wants Levi, he wants him so badly, wants to hold him, possess him, wants all of him. He fucks him hard, hips snapping against his ass, fingers gripping tight around his wrists. Levi lies passive beneath him, supple and boneless. Erwin can’t control himself, he comes quickly and Levi exhales a long breath as Erwin shudders against him, collapsing over him, showering his face with kisses.
Levi lies still as long as he can. Erwin is a dead weight on top of him, but he loves the feeling of his warm heavy body blanketing him. Adores the feeling of Erwin softening and slipping, cooling in a mess against his thighs. Erwin nuzzles into his neck sighing and content and Levi knows if he doesn’t move soon he’ll be asleep again in seconds.
Erwin mutters something that sounds like “sleepy” against the back of Levi’s neck.
“I don’t fucking think so. Come on, up. Shower young man.”
He digs one elbow into Erwin’s hip and levers him off to roll onto his back then he turns over, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Erwin’s flushed face. His eyes are closed, hair a riot, lips curving up into a contented smile. Levi wants to make some smart ass comment but all he can think of is how much he loves this man, how he would do anything for him, how he would crawl through hell to keep him safe. Levi leans forward and kisses his eyelids, one then the other. Erwin’s eyes flicker open and after all these years Levi can still never comprehend quite how blue they are. He reaches out, pushing the hair off Erwin’s forehead.
Quality resides in details well taken care of. This is true for the furniture you use so, with that in mind, we reviewed the folding table principles and designed a table that looks like a table first, hiding its folding qualities from view. Painted aluminum and bamboo.
Une table pliante, pouvant servir de table d'accueil ou de table d'appoint pour tous vos événements, sans compromis sur le style et la qualité, voilà ce que vous offre la table T1. En aluminium peint et bambou.
The leaves danced along in a swirl of frigid wind, barely dodging the pliant form spread out in the driveway looking up at the stars drunkenly.
“What are you doing?” Came a barely veiled scream of fear. The tap tap tap tap of feet against concrete almost echoed as he just about ripped the arms off of the soft body to lift it up.
You blinked dazedly at him, the soft breeze nor alcohol rushing through blue veins he could see wasn’t enough to knock you out even though it looked like you are about to fall over any second.
“Ash!” You slurred, arms looping his neck. “Dance with me.” You pouted, swaying to a song that he couldn’t hear.
“Babe its 20 degrees out here. Let’s just go inside.” He’d only seen you this way once before and it hadn’t been him taking care of you. It was when you and him we’re just friends; you were my Mikey’s best friend and Michael had handled it.
“But the music’s playing!” Faintly he heard it when the rustling leaves settled to the ground, a house party at one of the nearby houses and he smiled ruefully knowing that at four a.m. no one was actually listening to it anymore.
“The music’s playing but you’re the only one still dancing.” He informed but immediately wanted to take it back when tears formed in your eyes. “Sweetheart?” His hand was cupping one of your cheeks, ready to brush away tears when you hiccupped.
“The music’s playing but I don’t feel like dancing right now.” Then promptly burst into tears, your body sagging against him.
He lifted you easily enough, your limp body a little hard to maneuver gently up the steps into the house but he managed.
He eased onto the couch, just cradling your crying body and reached onto the back of the couch for the plush blanket you had just knitted but that seemed to make you sob a bit louder.
Snatching your phone off of the coffee table, he had every intention of just calling Michael. He would talk to you about what to do later, right now you needed someone that understood. He could feel bad about not asking about your panic attacks when the crying stopped.
Tapping quickly at your screen, the code was his birthday as usual, he was this close to throwing it at the wall from what he was seeing.
Earlier in the day you had gone shopping for yarn in a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt of his, not expecting to be photographed so early in the morning buying said yarn. You’d been embarrassed when you had given him a call before one of his TV interviews.
It had all been taken out of context when they spliced it together, a picture of you on the screen as the interviewer asked about ‘the new yarn obsession’ and he made one of his offhand comments about ‘a pair of quite embarrassing and itchy pants’ you had kitted him that had made it seem like he was embarrassed of you. You’d understood when he explained but apparently ‘fans’ did not with hat-filled words and something he just couldn’t repeat.
#Ashtonsembarrassment and #thingsuglierthanY/N were trending and you’d found your way into the tag. He wanted to cuss, throw the phone and hear the satisfying crack but he didn’t want to concern you.
“Love?” He whispered but you just let out a broken sob before whimpering.
“Can we just talk about this tomorrow? I just need you to hold me right now.” He shut up, gripping onto you because that was what you asked and who was he to deny you that?
“I love you.”
And you did, you knew that he was not embarrassed by you and you were not actually ugly but it still hurt.
And he would have lots to say during their next interview that began with disappointment and stopped with fuck you.
But curled up together under the fantastically knitted blanket, he knew he’d do whatever he needed to, to make you happy, however much of his time it took.
And you knew you were going to have both a hangover and a crying one to deal with in the morning but something told you it was going to be a chill day for you and him tomorrow full of lovely reminders of your beauty, his love, your love. And you were both ready for that.
so what about fuckboy ty and punk Josh n they start getting frisky and ty thinks he's gonna be the dom but then all the sudden j is like HAHA no jk I'm your daddy and ty is confused but loves it
Tyler and josh always had a fling, the typical punk and fuckboy affair. So it was no surprise when Tyler dragged the redhead to the schools bathroom and shoved him on his knees. Tyler took control, was used to it and josh seemed pliant enough as the brunette fucked his mouth desperately.
Just as the fuckboy was about to cum down Josh’s throat the redhead would pull off and stand up. Tyler would groan, confused and still thinking he was leading this whole thing. That’s when josh would turn into a massive dominant, flipping Tyler around and landing a slap to his ass.
“So you think you’re gonna top or somethin’ do ya? Admit it baby, you’re just a little sub for me.”
Tyler would automatically let out a quiet ‘daddy please’ and that would set them off. Josh would fuck Tyler hard and demanding, making sure he knew exactly who the daddy was. Wouldn’t be hard for anyone to pick up, considering tyler was screaming daddy until his voice cracked and sobs ran down his cheeks.
Metal sings when it’s hot. It glows bright and bends easily, and at the slightest touch, it hums, low at first, but the right heat, the right pressure, and it doesn’t take much to make it almost whine. It’s something Percy has always found fascinating, that something usually so staunch and stiff could, under the right circumstances, be so pliable, could bend to his will. Here, at least, was one thing that listened to him, that did what he wanted it to without question or objection.
patrick looked so so soft and curvy at the game recently. peterick h/c that pete loves every type of Patrick (that part isn't even a h/c it's real lbh) but he adores how soft patrick looks and feels like this
Yes ! He just love howPatrick is soft and pliant in the morning … Or after a show …
In primitive humanity, as with all humanity, the desire to enter
into contact with the Sacred is counteracted by the fear of being
obliged to renounce the simple human condition and become a more or less
pliant instrument for some manifestation of the Sacred (gods, spirits,
Mircea Eliade, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy
Man’s ambivalent attitude toward the sacred, which at once attracts and repels him, is both beneficent and dangerous, can be explained not only by the ambivalent nature of the sacred in itself, but also by man’s natural reaction to this transcendent reality which attracts and terrifies him with equal intensity. Resistance is most clearly expressed when man is faced with a total demand from the sacred, when he is called upon to make the supreme decision–either to give himself over completely and irrevocably to sacred things, or to continue in an uncertain attitude towards them.
“Brendon, you know you can’t fucking tease me on stage like that,” Ryan said, closing the door to the hotel room behind him.
“Oh, what are you gonna do?” Brendon asked, sarcastically. “Punish me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking.
“You know it,” Ryan replied, hands finding their way to Brendon’s hips.
Without much force, due to Brendon being so pliant, Ryan pushed Brendon to the bed. When the backs of his knees hit the mattress, Ryan stopped them with his fingers tight in the belt loops of Brendon’s pants. “You’re getting a spanking, that’s what you get,” Ryan announced, shoving Brendon’s pants down roughly.
“Good,” Brendon defied, just to rile Ryan up, make him angrier.
“You know what to do, slut, hands and knees.”
When Brendon followed the order, Ryan didn’t waste any time to get on with it. He spanked Brendon’s bare ass with only his palm, hard enough to leave a bright imprint of his hand on the very first hit.
At the silence that followed that hit, Ryan was displeased. He reached up to tug Brendon’s hair, pulling his head back. “Count it. I know you fucking love it.”
Ryan smacked his cheeks again.
“Louder.” Ryan’s hand came down against his left cheek, with more force than the first two.
“Three,” Brendon moaned.
“Better. Show me what a pain slut you are.”
“Four, Ryan, fucking hit me.”
And Ryan did, Ryan spanked him.
“Five, six, s-seven—” He gasped—"eight, nine, oh, ten, shit, elev-ven, fuck, fuck.“ He was whining now with every breath, and his words were all pants.
"Is that hard enough for you?” Ryan teased. Brendon’s ass was bright red and bruising. “You look like such a slut right now. Desperate and begging for the pain.”
Ryan backhanded the skin with a flick of his wrist, knuckles hitting Brendon’s ass.
“Twenty-fucking-one, harder, harder, please.”
By thirty, Brendon’s words were barely coherent, and by thirty five, Brendon couldn’t stop moaning. Ryan pulled away then, and Brendon was a wreck.
Ryan watched as Brendon collapsed onto his front, face pressed into the pillow of the bed. Brendon’s groans were muffled, but still apparent, and he rolled his hips frantically into the comforter. He clutched the sheets, knuckles white.
Finding it difficult to resist, Ryan reached out to only lightly smack Brendon’s beaten ass, seeing him so desperately trying to get off. At the added touch, the added pain, Brendon came with a sob, hips stilling.
Panting, Brendon laid there. He didn’t move, not when Ryan stroked his hair, not when Ryan kissed the back of his neck, and not when Ryan gently cleaned him up. He only moved to kiss Ryan’s lips and thank him before falling asleep, but that was okay. That was good enough for Ryan.
mm. rossi what abt ty gets really bad nightmares and flash backs and he wakes up screaming next to josh N he just needs to be taken up nn away n josh fucks him nice n slow until he's a pliant ball off just sub
subspace is sgood fr ty whn everythins too loud al he needs is t be pinned dwn choked a lil n fucked senseless into th mattress as josh purrs into his ear “daddy’s gotcha, baby. it’s alright, m'here. ain’t nothin’ gonna get my angel.” makin him stare into his eyes as he cums
Levi whines and shifts, but he doesn’t waken. Erwin’s lips curve into a smile against the back of Levi’s neck and he presses his nose into the smooth hair of his undercut where he’s been planting kisses for the last five minutes. Erwin loves to feel him like this; warm, sleepy and pliant. Levi shifts, yawns and stretches like a contented cat.
A Lostbirb Eruri Hivemind Headcanon™ brought to you by @birbwin and @lostcauses-noregrets. Enjoy!
It was as if his despair had given rise to a sense of invincibility; he felt that everything extraneous and soft had been burned off of him and he was left as an exposed steel core, indestructible and yet pliant, able to withstand anything.
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: One Direction (Band) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson Characters: Niall Horan, Liam Payne Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, High School AU, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Both 17…about to graduate high school Series: Part 1 of We Were Barely Seventeen And We Were Barley Dressed Summary:
“Will you kiss me?” Louis asks, looking up at Harry from under his lashes.
Okay, this is different from the loud Louis he’s become accustomed to over the years.
Harry is really turned on seeing Louis’ pliant and soft…
Harry and Louis are best friends…and one afternoon everything changes.
Researchers at Hokkaido University have developed a new kind of hydrogel that bonds spontaneously and strongly to defected bones, suggesting potential use in the treatments of joint injuries.
When soft supporting human tissues – including cartilage and ligaments, which are joined firmly to bones – are damaged, they cannot spontaneously repair inside the body. The use of artificial supporting tissues has the potential to significantly ameliorate damage to soft tissues. Progress has hitherto been hampered by the lack of materials that are strong, yet soft and pliant, for adhering to bone.
The research group had previously developed a tough, high-strength network gel, called double-network gel (DN gel), that exhibited excellent performance such as low wear and inductive function for cartilage regeneration. However, as the gel’s main component is water, it was difficult for it to bond with other surfaces – a major stumbling block in its practical application.
NISEKOI 227 - (Spoiler) Off Topic - That escalated quickly... Romanticism for children?
[[ Please, don’t call me insensitive… That chapter is full of feeling and confessions. Raku admits that he hasn’t acted very well in these years, but at least he didn’t make false or premature love declaration. Actually, a really romantic chapter. And some tears doesn’t ruin at all :)
It’s simply that… Am I strange, or all of that has been quite simple? Onodera, simply, leaves Raku to Chitoge (confirming her weakness, not trying to fight for his love - just a bit); you find my opinion here. Now, we see an unrecognisable Chitoge: too much pliant, self-pity… It’s good to admit our own flaws, but maybe in this way it’s too much…
Anyway, in the end: “I love you” “Yeah, I love you too” Ah, ok… And we pass from a false love to an authentic love. As if anyone hadn’t understood it 5 years ago…
PS: I expected a kiss… Why not? It would have been the right chapter for that, the right climax for the end of the last page… Well… They’re a little traditional… Maybe they’ll kiss after marrying and having four children…
PPS: At least, in the end, true significance of true love has won. ]]
Travie hopes he'll be allowed to babysit again. Before Brendon went into heat, they had had a really adorable week together and Travie wanted to do it again. Or even arrange a playdate if Travie starts seeing someone. Travie gets out of the shower and dries off, pulling on fresh jeans and a t-shirt, before going to check on Brendon. He was still asleep, but was tossing and turning and moaning a little, his pacifier on the pillow next to him.
Travie’s guilt creeps back in just looking at Brendon. Brendon’s heat is obviously getting strong again, and Travie, or at least a little part of him, wants to wake Brendon up and knot him while he’s still all pliant from sleep. But Spencer’s going to be back soon, and Brendon isn’t Travie’s omega, and Spencer will either kill Travie or break down if he catches Travie knotting Brendon.