but a humble gay dirtfarmer, simple and true:
i'm disappointed that this character designed with a fashion that historically has been used by women to show that we're not straight is, in fact, straight
the hetero masses, concerned, affronted, aghast:
egads! what have we here, hmmm??? don't you know you're stereotyping yourself by just *assuming* every girl with short hair is a lesbiaaaan??? butches are actually never progressive ever and i know this because of reasons. it's actually really hard to be a straight girl with a fashionable pixie cut because of you, ok :( the real homophobes were the gays all along.
me, my crops withering in the field, the sun unbearably hot:
please, my crops are dying
It’s April 26th, and it’s hot, unbearably hot. Harry feels like his insides are melting, about ready to ooze out of his body. He doesn’t remember it being this stifling the last time he was deployed; it’s like the heat is magnified, weighing him down, dragging him into the dirt. He’s trying to stay focused, he really is, but he has sweat dripping into his eyes and he’s miserably dehydrated and he feels off balance in every sense of the word. Liam asks if he’s feeling okay, and Harry nods slowly, furrowing his brows, wondering if he’s really that transparent. He feels pathetic, slightly, and weak for being the only one this affected by the 108 degree sun. He forces himself to keep up with Liam’s strides, his gear heavy, and by the time they catch up to Rob and Colin, Harry’s vision is spinning.
Here it is; the final part of my first proper series, ‘The Boss’. I just want to say a huge thank you to those of you who have taken the time to share and offer feedback on this - you’ve given me so much encouragement to finish this (which is rare for me) so thank you!!
You’re adjusting well to your new life on the West Coast, but there’s one thing still missing from it: Bucky (1,842 words; Bucky x Reader; 70′s Bucky Strip Club AU; SO. MUCH. SADNESS.)
I kept running between my backyard and front yard. The front yard was unbearably hot, like 100 degrees, so I would run to the back where it was snowy. When the snow got too cold for me, I ran to the front yard, and so on. Eventually, all the snow in the backyard melted and all that was left was a bunch of mud. I laid down in the mud and did this:
- there are two windows on each side of the bed and his blinds are always down - alina: ‘um why don’t you let some light in it’s a nice sunny day ou-’ aleksander: [laughs in that pretentious way of his like he’s been carrying the weight of the world for centuries] oh, alina, my dear alina, alina, alina… i’m ancient, alina……….. also, (alina,) it’s very aesthetically pleasing - Old Married CoupleTM - speaking of, they never actually marry but he tells her she has his heart and alina rolls her eyes in quiet acceptance and that’s kind of the same thing - black sheets, dark gray curtains, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling - he makes alina roll her eyes so much she actually develops a rare muscle tick no doctor can explain - alina: i have this headache- aleksander: *walks in* alina: there it is - they really want a pet but ofc they have to fight on this too so they end up with two: a white cat that’s the same colour as alina’s hair and a black pomeranian that literally looks like a ball of fluffy shadows - nutella pancakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner - alina has a perpetual frown and aleksander has a resting bitch face so you can bet there’s always a free seat for them on the train/subway - he has nightmares too and they’re actually very violent and draining so alina just wraps her arms around him and presses her nose against his shoulder until he stops shaking and then she starts drawing lazy circles of light (warm and soothing by definition) over his naked skin to calm him down - he’s the tall and brooding one but she’s the one people should look out for - valentino dresses and armani suits - aleksander praises himself on his newfound self-control and composure - that is, until he sees alina with nothing but his shirt on and deadass forgets how to function - sometimes he literally has to hook a finger into alina’s collar to hold her back bc yes she’s usually very quiet and patient and kind but the moment someone drives her over the edge she’s throwing hands and flip-flops (if necessary) - everyone treats them like a married couple too?? even tho they’re not?? - shadow play!!!!!! - snow angels - he freckles in the sun and alina always makes fun of him - + moles!! he’ll get like five new moles everytime he goes out so he has to walk with those giant ass rich widow hats (not all year round tho, july-august are probably the worst bc it’s just unbearably hot and sunny) - he’s still very closed off and distant (especially in public) in front of other people but the minute he’s alone with his sunshine? he melts like an ice-cream cone on a hot summer day - they never really say “i love you” but they just. know. - she knows in the way he brushes her messy pixie haircut behind her ear and his hand lingers a moment too long, almost like he’s awestruck and he knows in the way she smiles at the shadows sometimes, like they remind her of him /they do/ and the extra spoon of sugar she puts in his coffee bc she knows him so well - sometimes if alina is too tired from work she’ll make him read her fairytales bc he has a very soothing voice, simultaneously lulling her to sleep and making her acutely aware of his presence - lush who?? they can make their own bathbombs using their grisha powers - he can make cool swirling shadows and alina can make the water look like liquid starlight - and then they take a nice relaxing bath. together. - he makes her shadow puppets when she’s sick (or upset/grumpy) and tells her stories his mom used to tell him when he was a kid - alina: “*yanks curtains open* rise and shine you lazy ass it’s a beautiful day!! aleksander: it’s literally -15 degrees and the sun’s nowhere to be seen alina: ?? i’m here?? - (both) probably very into lana del rey
Requested by anon!!
⚠ Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, biting, and just rough foreplay/smut. ⚠
Tap, tap, turn.
Tord said the pattern quietly in his mind as he worked on a machine. It was a tiny one, a spy camera if you will.
One of his best ones yet, he decided. He continued to tinker and play with his new gadget before his nose picked up a certain smell.
He knew that smell. It was very familiar and it made his body move without thought. He’s caught whiffs of it
His eyebrows turned and raised as his eyes looked around the hallway.
The only other omega around here was Edd, Matt was a beta, and so was Tom.. Edd was out with Matt and everyone knew Edd’s cycle to make sure he was okay.
This was not Edd. And in all honesty, Tord likes this smell better than Edd’s.
He thought it was a good moment go use his little spy cam, pressing a few buttons on the control pad to make the device airborne. He smirked and had it fly out into the hallway.
Tord watched through the screen, searching into Edd’s room, then Matt’s, then finally Tom’s.
That was not expected.
Tom gasped, peeling away his clothes. It became unbearably hot in his room.
Tom never wanted to really become an omega, and he hid that fact really well. The smell from his alcohol and this cologne, along with suppressants, really helped mask the smell.
Only, he ran out of the two good things:
God, he wished if would be over but he couldn’t just magically poof and be rid of his omega ordeal.
Tom groaned as he started to grind into his pillow between his legs, trying to get any friction against his ass and dick. He felt his thighs get slick, groaning as the pillow rubbed up against him.
He huffed, his body rolling as he continued to grind against the object, pulling off his boxers as they were soaked. He panted, biting onto his hoodie.
He was just glad no one was home..
Tord couldn’t believe his eyes. He could feel his body get riled up from just the smell wafting into the lab.
He just.. Needed to feel that. He needed to be close…
Tord found himself standing in front of Tom’s door, hearing the omega whimper and whine. It made his skin crawl and the heaviness of his scent made his nose and throat burn.
He rolled his hips a bit, listening in more intently now.
Tom huffed, humping the pillow ecstatically. He was just getting enough friction to..
He forgot his thought and let out a loud moan, feeling the extra pleasure on his cock.
He moaned a bit more before the reality hit him like a brick.
That wasn’t his hands..
Tom whipped his head around, almost knocking foreheads with Tord.
“TORD, WHAT THE FUCK, STOP TOUCHING ME YOU COMMUNIST PRICK!!” He squalled, trying to cover his lower regions with the pillow.
Tord chuckled a bit lowly, his accent making his voice at least 10x times sexier than intended.
“Oh, but Thomas, you looked so good and you obviously need help. Why don’t I take over and- oW-” Tom slapped Tord’s hand, frowning.
“I’m not letting some asshole touch me.”
Tord held a resting expression before shrugging. “If you say so, I won’t push it.” He stood and sauntered out the room.
Tord had to sit outside to get away from the smell.
Tom huffed, thinking over his options. Edd and Matt still don’t know he’s an omega and they might find out when they come home, but Tord could.. Fix that..
“Alright, you bitch ass commie, get in here.” The bassist called from his window and Tord stumbled a bit before rushing in the door.
Tom met him on the stairs, being scooped up into Tord’s arms and pressed against the wall beside Tord’s bed room door.
He gasped, feeling Tord’s tongue and lips against his neck, suckling and lathering his hot tongue over the kisses.
“Am I allowed to bite-?”
Tom was surprised he asked, but nodded anyway. Tord smirked and latched on, biting down roughly and suckling.
The omega let out moans and chirps, humming as his neck was littered in bites.
Tord pushed into his room, setting Tom down a bit roughly onto his bed and crawling on top of him. The alpha rolled his hips down into Tom’s bare crotch, making the smaller groan.
Tom felt Tord’s hands all over his body and soon felt them between his legs, rubbing his member, balls and entrance.
Tord huffed, suckling on Tom’s sensitive nipples, his mouth soon heading south to lap at Tom’s natural slick. The bassist moaned and rolled his hips. The attention was a good choice..
Tom felt Tord lather his tongue over his entrance, making him squirm. Tord held Tom’s hips still as he slipped his tongue into the warm hole, resulting in the bassist moaning out.
Tord continued to lap at him, before pulling away to pull his member out.
Tom panted heavily as he watched, seeing Tord’s dick. Not too long, but definitely thick, along with the large knot at the base. He swallowed thickly.
The Norwegian smiled and kissed Tom, slipping his tongue into his mouth. He explored while he rubbed the tip against Tom’s entrance, slowly moving his hips and pushing in the head.
Tom moaned and his voice raised in volume as Tord forced more into him. He pulled away and panted, feeling the size shrink before fill him again.
Tord moved his hips slowly and soon sped up, making the smaller male bounce on the bed. Tom’s moans and gasps filled the room, Tord’s grunts not as loud.
Tom let out a loud squeal as he released, the foreplay and the actual banging got to him.
Tord wasn’t finished, oh no.
He gripped Tom’s hair, forcing him down as he rocked his hips roughly into Tom’s. The bassist squealed, his ass becoming raw and sensitive. Tord sped up even more, growling as he went to release;
Only to knot at the last second.
Tom squealed, feeling stretched. Tord bucked his hips, popping the knot in place.
Tom panted, his vision a bit blurry. Tord gripped his jaw and made sure he was still coherent and gave his cheek a smooch.
Hopefully, the knot would go down before Edd and Matt get home. Tord wouldn’t want his omega being found out. Maybe he’ll even get more suppressants once it releases.
All for his omega.
Member: S.Coups Genre: Smut, comedy Word Count: 1312
“Have fun at the arcade, guys!” you shout after the group of boys leaving. Vernon, Chan, and Joshua wave goodbye, closing the door behind them. It was a free day for seventeen, which means they all got to go out and do things that they actually wanted to be doing, but never got the chance to do. Vernon, Chan, and Josh headed to the arcade, Mingyu, Jihoon, Wonwoo, Jun, and Minghao went to the movies, Seokmin and Soonyoung went restaurant hopping, and Seungkwan and Jeonghan went to the mall. Which meant you were completely alone with Seungcheol for the first time in…a very, very long time.
“I’m glad you guys get to relax today. You deserve it,” you sigh, flopping down on top of your boyfriend. He tore his eyes away from the television to look at your face.
“You deserve it too, Mrs. Manager-Machine,” he smiled, stroking the side of your face. “You work almost as hard as we do.” His deep voice rumbled through his chest, and you could feel it in your own chest as you laid against him. You didn’t respond, you just nuzzled your face into his shirt.
“Babe?” he asked, nudging your side. When you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, his immediately widened. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
David Bowie, The Man Who Fell to Earth,, White Sands, 1975
Photograph: Black and White Type: gelatin Print
“I’m so glad I took this (once in a lifetime) of The Man, en famille, before he fell to earth. The temperature was unbearably hot at White Sands in New Mexico. This was the site of the detonation of the first atomic bomb in 1945, an eerie and desolate place.” –Geoff MacCormack
D-dark RC... sexy headcanons about Victuuri's size difference??? o///o
According to the YOI wikia, Victor is 5′11″ and Yuuri is 5′8″. For reference, compare Valtteri Bottas and Marcus Ericsson in this height comparison chart of Formula 1 drivers. Theirs is a lovely height difference, because it puts Victor’s lips at the same height as the space between Yuuri’s eyebrows. All Victor has to do is step close to press kisses there, and it’s something he does often, but even sweeter is that he barely has to do any work for a proper kiss–just cup Yuuri’s chin in his hands, thumbs stroking the throb on either side of the curve of Yuuri’s jaw, and tilt it up. He’s dated and slept with people of all heights, has stooped to kiss them and felt the ache in his neck, has craned his own jaw up for mouths out of reach, but with Yuuri it’s effortless to just tip up his chin, part those lips beneath his, and take what he wants.
And don’t get me started on their size difference. Like, look at this:
Are you fucking kidding me. Look at Victor’s fucking wingspan. Look at how broad his shoulders are. You know he gives the best hugs; Yuuri finds every excuse in the book to be wrapped up in them. When Victor’s lying on the couch watching another episode of Would I Lie To You? on his phone, Yuuri climbs on top of him and just goes boneless, forcing Victor to sling his free arm around Yuuri’s back to keep him from falling off. Or when Victor’s in the kitchen and burning the kolbasa, Yuuri will wander in and force himself in between Victor and the stove, pressing close, burying his face into Victor’s shoulder while Victor holds him tight with one arm and tries to put out the inevitable grease fire with the other.
But his favorite is when Victor holds him from behind. Since Victor walks on cat’s feet, Yuuri never hears him coming, so every single time is a complete surprise. It always makes Victor laugh–”were you expecting someone else?” Of course Yuuri’s not expecting someone else. It’s just that no one’s ever held him before–not like this. His brain is still scrambling to log in the feeling of a broad chest slotting up against his back like the final piece in a puzzle that’s taken years to finish; he’s still trying to compute what it feels like to be pulled in and wrapped up, safe, sheltered from everything in the world that could go wrong; and every time it’s completely new, because the muscles that should hold that memory have atrophied over the years. But someday Yuuri will be so used to it that, when Victor comes up behind him and slides proprietary arms around his belly and chest, he won’t even twitch. Until then, he’s more than happy to be surprised by and then melt into every touch.
AND SHARING CLOTHES I MEAN
Yuuri is all about big, comfy sweatshirts and collared shirts that hang off him, which means Victor can never find a shirt to wear because Yuuri’s stolen them all. Victor can’t even be mad about it, because there is nothing sexier than seeing Yuuri lounging in their kitchen, feet absently swinging where he sits at the breakfast bar, wrapped up in Victor’s favorite flannel while trying to translate the front page of Известия.
Victor totally gets his revenge by stealing some of Yuuri’s shirts, which are waaaay too small in the shoulders and arms, and they all hug the valleys of his six pack in the most indecent ways. If he tries to reach for something in a cabinet while wearing Yuuri’s favorite raglan, it’ll ride up to bare all of Victor’s stomach. It’s unbearably hot and Yuuri can’t help the waves of lust that crash over him when he sees Victor in his too-small clothes. And while forcing Victor to take Yuuri’s shirts off usually leads to impromptu sex, Yuuri has to keep replacing them because Victor’s stretching them all out.
Alcohol running through her body, her heart beating to the rhythm of whatever song the DJ was playing, body moving on its own, and a pair of eyes watching her every move with hunger and a trail of jealousy. Soon enough, plump lips were attached to hers, kissing her feverishly and sucking the breath out of her lungs, then moving down to her neck to bring out of her lips sweet and tormented moans, which he always longed to hear from her, but never had the chance to.
The stranger’s lips were still attached to her collarbone as they made their way stumbling into a bedroom which was unknown to her, this being her smallest problem at the moment. The room soon got filled with their hot, pleasure-filled moans and groans echoing throughout his bedroom.
In the morning she was woken up by the feeling of unbearable hotness. Opening her eyes, she couldn’t recognize the room she was in. Looking carefully around the room, tightly holding the duvet to her chest, her eyes finally landing on a photograph on the bedside table next to her, eyes going wide in shock as she recognized the man next to a beautiful, long-haired woman. On the second picture, the same couple was kissing. Her heart broke to thousands of pieces as memories from the previous night crept into her mind, remembering how the man from those pictures held her, kissed her, how he made her feel, how he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, and how they made passionate love just a few hours prior.
She buried her face in her palms as memories from her teenage years came back and the feelings she had had for the man who was still sleeping beside her in the king-sized bed, the same man she had been in love with for several years, the man who had stolen her first kiss then a week after he had announced his relationship with some other girl. It took her quite some time to get over him. Just how did she end up in his bed?
Not wanting to be caught by him in his apartment when he wakes up, she slowly got out of his bed, gathered her clothes, got dressed up, and after opening some doors she found the bathroom. Splashing cold water on her face, she looked into the mirror. Her reflection was all but joyous. Dark circles under her eyes threatened to flood her face (which was contorted because of her broken heart) with salty tears.
As she was about to leave the bathroom her eyes caught the sight of a sticky note on the side of the mirror:
I won’t see you ‘till the wedding ceremony on Saturday. I can’t wait to become your wifey. Love you!
The traces of her lips coated with red lipstick on the right down side of the note made her hate red lipstick even more than she already did.
She felt like her insides were on fire, she had to get out of that apartment, she felt suffocated in there. She couldn’t look into his eyes, actually, she couldn’t look anyone in the eye in that moment. She felt dirty, like a whore. How could she sleep with a man who was about to get married in a few days? Why was life punishing her like this? Whatever god was above, must have hated her a lot.
As she opened the door exiting the bathroom she silently prayed for the man to be still deep asleep.
Her hopes came crashing down when she bumped into Sunghwa’s chest and if it weren’t for his quick reflex she would’ve ended up on the floor and with a bad headache.
He held her close to his chest deeply staring into her wide eyes. She cursed in her head when she realized where she was and how close his lips were to hers, memories of their hot night once again flooding her mind, blinding her for a second.
She brought her hands up to his chest and pushed him away as reality hit her and realized what compromising position they were in. Taking a few steps away from him, she walked towards the door looking for her purse and hoping he wouldn’t follow her.
"Where are you going?“ Sunghwa grabbed her hand. She looked back and met his questioning eyes which were holding some sadness, and desperation, maybe. She didn’t plan on finding out.
Pulling her hand out of his grip in a swift movement she continued her way toward the door. “I asked something,” he was getting annoyed, however, her pain was stronger than to care about him.
She turned back, “What do you expect me to do?” She looked at him expectantly, “I don’t plan on waiting till your girlfriend, oh wait, your soon-to-be wife comes and kicks me out calling me names,” the pain and hurt in her eyes killed him. He didn’t plan their first meeting to be like this.
Ever since their first kiss at a gazebo he couldn’t forget how his heart had been beating the whole time, how her eyes had been shining in the moonlight, ha had wanted back then to confess his love but as always, he had been a coward and never followed his heart.
Her words hurt him, at the same time he couldn’t imagine how hurt she must’ve been. His eyes were inspecting the rug beneath his feet as he tried to find the right words. “What?! Kitty got your tongue?” She asked sarcastically. “ Man up, Sunghwa!” She yelled at him.
"Give me a chance,“ his voice was barely audible as he looked up at her with fear in his eyes.
"Tsk…” she couldn’t believe her ears. “A chance, Sunghwa?” She grabbed his chin to direct his gaze to her face, “you’re a few years late,” though her voice was sad, she was determined not to let him lure her in.
"Coward!“ She looked at him with rage and pity in her eyes. “How dare you ask me for a chance when you’re getting married in a few days?” She looked at him with disappointment.
His eyes were yet again cast downwards, “How about the woman you’re supposed to love more than your own life? What about her?” She knew she was going overboard, yet she couldn’t help her anger, “Do you plan on keeping me as your side hoe?” Her face contorted at the thought, she was hurting herself more than him at this point.
"Don’t say that,“ he begged silently, “I’ll call down the wedding if you give me a chan…” her hand came in contact with his face before she could give it a second thought. Her eyes went wide at the sound of her powerful slap, “Sorry…” she wanted to caress his red cheek when he softly grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of her hand.
"I deserved it,“ he looked at her in agony, “I did wrong. I should’ve been a man, I should’ve made you mine when I had the chance,” his quite confession was like a dagger, “just a moment ago…” he looked at her with sincerity trying to convince her of his honesty, “I was serious, though. I’d call down the wedding without a second thought.”
Yet again, she couldn’t believe the nonsense coming out of his mouth, “Get your head out of your ass before I smack you again,” she ordered. “I’m not the same teenage girl anymore, Sunghwa. I don’t care what would you do if I asked you,” she looked at him with determination, “you’ve made the choice to marry her, don’t you dare to go back on your word cause I swear to whatever god there’s above I’ll kill you,” she scolded him like a mum does with her child.
”Did you have fun playing with me? Cause it was not a freaking game to me, Sunghwa! What do you think about me?” he didn’t seem to have an answer to her question. “Don’t you dare play with me! I slept with you because I was drunk. Do you think you’re the only man I slept with?” He didn’t want to know the answer to that question.
She was on the verge of crying, “If I was her, I wouldn’t want to marry you after what you’ve just said. It hurts that you used me in my weak moment to get me in your bed for your selfish thoughts and needs. A few years ago I would’ve given anything and everything to have you, but that’s in the past,” her arms fell to her sides as she once again went towards the exit.
“Don’t look for me,” she said without turning back.
He fell on his knees the moment the door got shut behind her. He knew he did wrong, he knew that a one night stand wasn’t the right way to get her back… oh, wait, she didn’t want to be with him. She moved on. She did what he always thought to be impossible for him: moving on.
Author’s Note: Something that was on my mind ever since I had started writing Morning After - Simon (it was originally supposed to be a Gray scenario, ended up being a Simon scenario - I love that side of writing) This ended up being angst for @iamlisteningtotherainsound had kindly asked me “to make them suffer” Enjoy your reading and don’t be afraid to leave feedback! ^^ - J
You know what, I suck at reading instructions! I'm so sorry again!!! I am so sorry I'm not reading you rules correctly. Once more I asked for the whole "hot mess" of a thing. And I'm sorry. So, can I just request MTME Cyclonus, Drift, Pharma, and IDW Starscream with human s/o doing whatever you chose? Please and thank you. And I'm so sorry for screwing up the request twice :(
Oh no sweetie it’s okay! Don’t feel bad, it happens ^.^ lol I may have went a bit overboard with this…
Gardening with s/o
The air is rich with fragrance as you lead Drift through the
grove of blooms. Spring is the time of new beginnings, you explain, plucking an
azalea and handing it back to him. He smiles softly. His nimble digits weave
the flower into the wreath he’s making, and he tugs it to a finish and places
it on your head. “You are my new beginning”
It’s not Drift’s fault you fell. It’ yours; you’d reached
too far for that, shiny, juicy, perfect first fruit, lost your balance, and
went tumbling down from his servo and into the bushes below. Drift had been
horrified by your screams as the thorns dug into your skin. It’s not his fault,
you assure him frantically, totally not his fault- but that doesn’t stop him
from blaming himself. He winces as he lays the last Band-Aid over a scrape,
kissing it tenderly with his holo-avatar’s lips. You suppose you won’t be
making jam today; Drift won’t let you out of bed for a long while. Instead,
maybe he’ll be up for telling you a story or two.
“Who planted so much squash?” you ask, eyeing your overrun
garden. You’d learned early on to be frugal with squash seeds; they grow like
nobody’s business and there’s no way to
not be sick of it by the end of summer. Cyclonus makes a troubled noise. He
looks flustered, and not in the cute way like when you kiss him. He looks like,
maybe, he made an error. A laugh bubbles from your lips. How can you be
mad? Rookie mistake, you tease him, and
before he can apologize you wave him off. You’ll just make bread, you tell him.
He smiles gratefully and starts to harvest the squash.
Today is unbearably hot, so you have to water yourselves as
well as the garden. Cyclonus moves slower than usual, his cooling fans blast unbearably
loud. You hook the hose up. When the water hits his plating it sizzles, curling
little wisps of steam, and he relaxes against a tree. Now that he’s cool you
can sit in his lap and let the sprinkler drench both of you. He runs a claw
through your hair, working out the knots, and you doze as the summer sun hangs
high above you.
“Thank…you?” you say when Pharma gives you a handful of
pumpkin guts. He doesn’t reply; you don’t think he heard you over the buzz of
his chainsaw. Even in his mass-displaced form he had to get the biggest pumpkin
to be able to work properly with it. He flicks the juice off of his chainsaw
and turns the pumpkin, smiling proudly. It’s not… the prettiest jack-o-lantern,
but it’s definitely the scariest. Pharma says he’s ready to set it on fire and
scare the neighborhood kids.
Pharma is all business in the morning, which is good because
you’re not all anything in the
morning. He lets you ride in the wagon on the way to the garden and even does
most of the harvesting for you. Surprisingly, he doesn’t talk. He’s razor-sharp
focused as he cuts gourds free and pulls up carrots. As you trot next to him on
the way back you notice how tired he looks. He grumbles that he could really
use his morning energon right about now.
IDW Starscream (Winter)
Your breath puffs a small cloud. You assess the tree. There
are some dead branches that will have to go, you explain to Starscream, for the
tree to be able to grow. He’s not listening; he’s rubbing his arms and whining
about the cold. With a small laugh you take out your pruning saw- only for it
to be snatched away. Starscream huffs- let him
do it, you humans are so fragile, and of
course you’ll end up hurting yourself. Besides, a little work might warm
There’s ice on the tips of Starscream’s wings. There’s ice caked on the tips of Starscream’s wings.
You know he’s in pain because he’s not complaining; his face is pinched and he
tries to keep in his whimpers. He tries to act like it doesn’t bother him. You
sit him in front of the fire place and gently- ever so gently- brush the slush
away with a towel. Gradually his shaking slows, his whimpers quiet into small
groans, and his frame finally relaxes. He flutters his wings with slow, careful
movements, then offers you a smile and a place on his lap. When he falls into
recharge, curled softly around you, you know the pain is gone.
Apologies if I’ve missed anyone out - it’s a long list as you can see xD
‘Don’t forget.’ Jumin pressed in
on you, your bodies touching inch for inch, the warmth between you growing hot.
‘….We are in love.’
There was a silence that
followed, a stillness that seemed to teeter on a strained edge. Your breaths
were slow but heated, the soft rush of air as it passed your lips the only
noise in the room.
‘…Aren’t we?’ he breathed.
There was a fading restraint to his tone…as if he had been tightly coiled up
until this moment, as if whatever he had been winding was now beginning to come
‘We are…’ you said, your voice
coming out low and husky as small shivers ran down your spine…..like
continual reminders that you were about to walk an unfamiliar path.
‘That’s my good girl.’ Jumin murmured, slowly running
the back of his finger down your cheek. ‘…But words are just words. I
need you to show me. To trust me,’ he leant in, his breath caressing the shell
of your ear. ‘…To submit to me.’
Synopsis: A call in the middle of the night, a needy plea and a pet name that made you surrender to Yoongi’s sudden craving.
A ring in the middle of the night.
phone, fuck. I should have turned it off’.
It was the first night that week you had
managed to go to bed early and get some real
rest. Nights were unbearably hot that summer. The sheets stuck to your body as
you struggled to reach the night table, where the phone was still ringing and buzzing
frantically. It took you a couple of
seconds to adapt your eyes to the brightness coming from the screen, but you
still could see his name clearly.
You checked the time. It was 4 a.m. and he
was calling you. Terror lumped in your throat as you took the call and
incoherently tried to blurt out the words that stubbornly refused to abandon your
‘Yoongi, are you okay?’ You got no response,
only a silent line and his quiet breathing at the other side of it. He is okay. Worry was quickly replaced
by anger, the anger of being woken up just for him to play with you. ‘Yoongi,
if this is you being bored I swear to God…’
‘Baby…’ His voice was honeyed, and it was
followed by a gruff purr that dissipated your childish tantrum in a second. ‘I
It had taken Draco ten years to properly see Potter as dangerous when his temper was unrestrained; three to wallow ambiguously in how glorious it was, two to develop a sturdy sense of jealousy, and about six minutes to find it unbearably hot.
It all amounted to a very bad habit of saying things that got Harry …riled.
And now that she’s standing in front of him, the unforgiving rain making her golden hair stick to her face, the expression of a flood caught within her gaze, he suddenly remembers every moment: Every moment that makes him wish he’d told her a long time ago, when they were nothing but a pair of kids sharing strange dreams and peanut butter sandwiches.
He remembers her warm laugh as the sound of it burns through the back of his mind, filling every chamber of him until he is a paper crumbling at the edges, left blackened by the sweet memory. Oh, how he needs her to laugh like that again, needs her to be seven years old, holding his hand while giggles bounce on the fabric of their pillow fort.
“Clarke…” Don’t leave. Those words won’t emerge as they have stuck to the inside of his throat, too heavy to fly out like they were meant to. Desperate, he cups her face that is wet from the raindrops that have mixed with tears, so he can no longer tell the difference. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters, when pain is mercilessly tearing at his heart, determined to shred it to pieces.
Glancing at her mouth immediately has him squeezing his eyes shut. Breathe. Her lips are just a curve, just a small part of a masterpiece. She won’t crumble if you kiss them.
“Bellamy-“ Her voice a distant croak through the blur of his thoughts, Clarke puts an arm around his waist and her face to his chest. Then, she sobs, and he prays that his leather jacket will catch each of them as they emerge.
“Listen to me,” he begins, trying to mask the sound of his heart shattering as it threatens to make his voice crack. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pushes her off his chest, which causes their gazes to meet in a nebula of blue and brown.
Suddenly, it all flashes back…
And he’s five, knocking at the glass of her window. She is sitting on the bed, eating cold lasagna off a paper plate while the tabby cat lies on her feet, warming them.
Mom and dad are fighting, she says. His eyebrows knitting together, he nods before crawling into her room through the window like he’s already done so many times.
It makes her feel better, so he lets her draw an orange dragon on his arm… Smiling at her, he hopes she knows that she can slay it if that’s what she wants.
Then, he’s nine, in the grass by her side. To her, the clouds in the sky all look like broken hearts and moving vans, but he assures her that they look like rabbits.
It makes her feel better, so he lets her embrace him, and finds himself holding on.
Next, he’s thirteen, playing his guitar underneath her window at an ungodly hour, and the words come flying out of his mouth like sweet nothingness. Of course, he’s trying to cheer her up the way that chocolate ice cream does, but once his song is finished, she tells him, with the shadow of a smile on her face, that he must never kiss her… It makes her feel better, so he makes the promise.
Time flies, just like her at seventeen, dancing her way across his room in nothing but a sheer white shirt and dark-washed shorts; the ones with the Starry Night pocket. He remembers being with her when she saw them in the store, and how she looked at them like he thought she’d never look at him.
From his bed, he’s watching her, amusement caught in his gaze, and when she looks back, only to find him shirtless, color rushes to her cheeks, but because it makes her feel better he convinces himself that it’s nothing.
With that, he’s back to a moment that is drowning in the rain. “Listen to me,” he repeats. “I meant what I said. Please don’t… Please don’t run from me.”
At his words, her lips part as her hand grabs onto the fabric of his soaked shirt. Releasing a quick breath from the cage of her lungs, Clarke holds his gaze. “Kissing me breaks the promise, remember?”
“Screw the damn promise, Clarke!” To his surprise, she barely blinks at his sudden outburst, but when he starts to move away from her, her eyes fill with rage: She’s thunder impersonating a girl in a cobalt dress, but he’s always known it. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Oh, of course you did!”
In the moments that pass upon those words, it feels like everything is going to shatter, him having turned his shoulder to her, his gaze directed towards the ground. The water fills his lungs, and he’s gasping for air, but after all, it’s her that brings him back to the surface with a soft pull on his sleeve.
“…But I love you too.”
Time stops, which makes him five, nine, thirteen, seventeen and eighteen all at once when he slowly turns his head to look at her, the tears in her ocean blue eyes and closes the space between them. Yet, his lips aren’t touching hers, only the tips of their noses brush, because even after all these years, he still craves permission. “I don’t know what else to say, Bellamy…” She mumbles, the words ghosting over his lips.
“You don’t-“ What cuts him off is her hands on either side of his face, pulling him impossibly closer until the storm folds around their embrace. In that moment, he knows he’s loved her for a hundred years, without question, without hesitation - it has always been her.
As if hypnotized, he looks down at her, convinced that she has changed her mind. Maybe, the truth is that it was never really made up. All that escapes is her name again, broken like the promise before he bends his head slightly to capture her lips with his own - his hand tangling in wild waves of her wet hair and his heart beating a tattoo against his ribcage.
And she’s five, laughing as she chases him down the street. Nine, splitting her cookie with him during lunchtime while he talks about heroes and emperors. Thirteen, humming as he struggles to braid her hair and seventeen kissing his knuckles after anger caused him to punch his locker.
Yeah, this kiss is a whirlwind as her fingertips run through his hair, and he believes that they both broke the promise a while ago. Together, unable to fight something so powerful and now it becomes clear that they’ve lost the war.
“Clarke–“ Breaking the kiss, Bellamy tries to regain his breath, but it’s difficult when she is looking at him, pupils dilated to the point where he can hardly see the blue in her eyes. “Let’s go.”
“Are you telling me you want to ditch the rest of the prom?” Clarke asks, a teasing edge to her voice, and Bellamy groans, because she knows that the only reason why he went in the first place was because she wanted to go with him. “What do you want to do, then?”
It’s a question that clings the atmosphere inside his car as they drive to his house, the place where they spent most of their childhood together, playing pretend and building with Legos. Now, it seems as though that was centuries ago, because suddenly the sweet, freckled boy of her memories is making her skin feel unbearably hot; her cheeks and chest flushed as she fidgets with the end of her dress.
“You alright?” Bellamy inquires, glancing at her while parking the car in the driveway.
“Yeah…” But Clarke can only bring herself to look at his hands on the steering wheel. However, that is until she remembers how they were pressed against the small of her back a few minutes ago. She doesn’t have to look at him to know that his brows have furrowed at the sound of the nerves breaking through her voice, yet she still does her best to seem calm, stepping out of the car.
“Okay…” He starts once they’re inside, and she just about expects that word to be some kind of indication that he is going to push her against a wall to make out with her, but that isn’t what happens. Instead, he says: “I’m going to change into set of clothes that doesn’t stick to me like glue. Do you want to borrow a pair of my sweatpants? A shirt?”
Perhaps it’s a stupid reaction, but Clarke nearly tears up, and she doesn’t know if it’s relief or just utter, unexplainable love for him - Maybe it’s both. In attempt to mask her reaction, she nods quickly. Nevertheless, he gives her a reassuring smile before he disappears into his room to pick out clothes, which is something that reminds her that she can never hide anything from him.
While he changes in his room, she does the same in the bathroom, just like they usually do on their weekly sleepovers, but frankly this is the first time that she has borrowed some of his clothes: His favorite dark blue sweater and a pair of gray sweatpants. It’s way too big, but it makes her feel so warm and safe that her heart can barely handle it, as it flutters with affection.
Entering the living room, Clarke finds him already seated on the couch in his usual spot, and she settles next to him, curls into his side. For a few minutes, Bellamy lets her rest her head on his chest, running his fingers through her hair, then he simply murmurs: “Which movie do you wanna watch?”
“What?” Once again, his eyebrows furrow, and as he looks at her, noticing the confused expression on her face, he signs, which manages to confuse her even more.
Chuckling warmly, Bellamy taps the tip of her nose with his finger. “Clarke… We’re just going to watch a movie, okay? So will you please tell your nerves that they aren’t welcome here?”
At the raise of his eyebrows, she laughs, leaning in to catch a wild, dark brown curl that has fallen into his line of vision. Their faces are so close that she can count the freckles that dust his cheeks, running her fingertip over them: Once it reaches the last freckle by his upper lip, he smiles and she wonders how she was ever afraid of loving him…
… It honestly feels like the easiest thing in the world.
That is what she breathes against his lips when she moves to kiss him. Their relationship, until this moment, was held back by her fear as well as his selflessness.
“Rick,” You moan as he slides his fingers in and out of you, the warm water of the shower running down your back. “If you keep going like that I’m gonna cum.”
“Well we don’t want that, do we?” He smirks, removing his fingers from you. He bends you over in front of him, and enters you slowly.
“Fuck.” He groans, starting to go faster. He grabs on to your hips for stability and throws his head back in pleasure.
Ever since last night, you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other. After your little session on the couch, you two took it upstairs to your bedroom. You had tried to convince him to go home after that because you knew that Carl would be looking for him. Rick had none of it. He just pulled you in closer to him, wrapping his arm around you while kissing your head. The two of you fell asleep like that, in each other’s arms. Now, it was the next morning, and you two were having shower sex.
Rick says he’s getting as much of you can he can, “trying to make up for lost time.” Secretly, you thought it was just because he hadn’t had sex in over five years, so he’s just a very horny man. You were not complaining- he was definitely satisfying your needs.
“I love you so much, Y/N.” He pulled out of you once he finished, giving you the biggest smile you’d seen him wear in a long time.
“I love you too, Rick.” You pulled him into a kiss. “But you’ve been here all night. Everyone’s going to think you died or something. I’m sure Carl is probably freaking out.”
“Trust me, I think they know where I am. You didn’t exactly scream my name quietly last night.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” You make a face as you step out of the shower, grabbing a towel. “I hope no one says anything. I’ll die of embarrassment.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” He wraps a towel around his waist. You look up at him in awe. He’s such a handsome man. The way his hair curls when he lets it grow out too long, his growing in beard, his eyes…
“Is there something on my face?” He frowns, looking into the mirror.
“No. Just admiring you.” You admit, blush creeping through your cheeks. You grab the brush off the counter and begin to brush your hair.
“I’m nothin’ special, not really.”
“You know that’s bullshit.”
“Maybe.” He laughs. “Honestly, Y/N, I haven’t felt this happy in a long ass time. All because of you.” He pulls you into another kiss. He tries to deepen it, but you pull away.
“We have to get to breakfast with Carol and the group, and then I have my run. We have to go.” You say, but he just pulls you closer again, kissing your neck.
“Rick,” you breathe out. You let yourself enjoy it for a moment before stepping back to reality. “We have to leave.”
“Fine.” He groans. You walk to the bedroom to put on new clothes, and he puts on the clothes he wore over yesterday.
“You might want to head back over to your house before going to Carol’s.” You mention as you slide on your jeans, buttoning them up at the top. “Don’t need to get more shit from them than we already will.”
“You see, the key word there is ‘already will.’”
“I hate when you’re right.”
“I always am.” He pulls his white shirt over his head, muscles flexing in his arms.
“You’re also cocky as shit, did you know that?” You tease as you walk out the door, the warm sunshine hitting your face. It was a relatively nice day, not quite as unbearably hot as the day before.
“Nah.” He responds, staying right by your side as you walked. You walked up to Carol’s house, seeing everyone inside.
“Morning, lovebirds.” Glenn smirks as you two enter the house.
“Oh, shut up Glenn.” Rick laughs. “You aint one to talk.”
Carl looked super uncomfortable at this conversation. Me too, buddy, me too.
“So, uh, how was watch last night, Maggie?” I tried to change the topic of conversation, desperate to end the awkwardness.
“Pretty uneventful. Nothing exciting happened. How was your night?” She asked, lifting her eyebrows. Everyone looked at you in anticipation.
“We’re together now, just to get that out of the way. Y’all can stop asking about it now.” Rick answered for you.
“Well it’s about damn time. The two of ‘ya look at each other like lovesick puppies enough.” Daryl huffed.
“Whatever, Daryl. When are we leaving?” You take a bite of the toast on the table.
“Whenever you’re done.” He shrugs. “We need to clear the place out as much as possible and take whatever we find. Nothing in specific.”
“If there is un-raided Victoria’s Secret, I think I might scream.” I finish my toast. Daryl gets up out of his chair, grabbing his crossbow.
“Let’s go.” He huffs, walking out the door.
“Come over when you get back, alright?” Rick kisses you as you start to follow Daryl. “Be safe. Use your knife as much as possible. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Rick, I’ve been with this group long enough to know what to do. I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe I should come with.”
“Rick,” you say once again. “I can take care of myself, plus I’ve got Daryl with me. You’ve got too many responsibilities here.”
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you. I just got you.”
“I’ll be okay.” You kiss his cheek.
You head outside to meet Daryl on the street.
“Took you long enough.” He said, motioning for you to get on the back of his motorcycle. You slide on, putting your arms around him, and he drives off.
The ride there was a little far, but not unbearable. The wind you felt from the fastness of the motorcycle felt good. You liked riding on Daryl’s motorcycle, although you’d never told anyone that. Something about it excites you. It was exhilarating.
“Outside’s clear.” Daryl noted. You got off the bike, him doing the same. The mall wasn’t very big, but it was something. You pulled your knife out of your pocket and walk inside the door, ready for anything.
You were inside of a food court. There were a few straggler walkers coming towards you two, but Daryl shot them down before they could get anywhere close.
“Look to see if any of these food places have any canned food options. I know food is pretty abundant now, but it doesn’t hurt to have extras.” You tell Daryl.
“You been hangin’ out with Rick too much.” He mumbles. You roll your eyes, ignoring him and going behind the counters to see what the options were.
The food court was a bust. You two didn’t find any food worth taking, and you went your separate ways to go through the stores of the mall.
You find a Bath and Body works that still has some things left in it. You grab soaps, lotions, candles, and perfumes. You also grab a ton of different types and sizes of clothing from the stores you went through.
You were about to leave and find Daryl when a Victoria’s Secret catches your eye. The store still had most of their items- I guess people didn’t think they’d need lingerie in the apocalypse.
“Rick would love this.” You say out loud, holding up black lace bustier with a matching black thong. You shove it into your own separate back, hoping no one finds it. It really was quite sexy.
You walk out of the store, looking around for Daryl. You find him in the pharmacy store, looking intensely at something on the shelf.
“What’s up?’ You ask him. He jumps away, not noticing you were there.
“Nothin’, um, let’s go.” He says quickly. You raise your eyebrows at him but decide not to question him about it.
You look in the mirror, admiring your reflection. The outfit you got from Victoria’s Secret looked really good, and you knew that Rick would like it.
He didn’t get to see you dressed up often. Yeah, there was that one night at the welcoming party, and you certainly look better now that you’ve arrived in Alexandria. But you still dressed in jeans and t-shirts every day, and that’s not sexy. This? This was sexy.
You slide your jeans and a baggy t-shirt over your outfit so you could walk over to Rick’s house. Just as you’re about to knock, the door opens and Carl stands there smiling at you.
“Hey, how was the run?” He let you in.
“It was good. Got clothes for some people and some extra medicine. What’d you do today?”
“She’s too cute.” You gushed. “Anyways, where’s your dad?”
“He’s in the shower, he’ll probably be out in a minute. He’s been an ass all day, been worried sick about you.” He laughs. “He cares about you a lot, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” You smile.
“I’m gonna go hang out with Enid. Judith is with Carol, I’ll pick her up on my way back.” He seemed rushed to get out of the house.
“Carl, I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave the house just because I’m here.”
“You’re not. I just want to hang out with Enid, that’s all.”
“Oh.” I caught on. “Well… Have fun.”
He practically ran out the door. You laughed and went upstairs. You hear the shower still running, and you open the bathroom door slowly.
“You’re back early.” He says over the shower.
“Yeah, it was a small mall.”
“Is Carl gone?” He turned off the shower and poked his head out of the curtain.
“He is. By the way, I heard you were bein’ a dick today because you were worried.” I frown, handing him his towl.
“Just saying you didn’t need to be. I’m fine, just like I told you I would be.”
He wrapped the towl around his waist and stepped out from the shower. “I’m never gonna stop worrying about you, so I’d get used to it.”
He brings you into a kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him closer. He’s about to take off your shirt when you stop him.
“Wait!” You shout, surprising him. “Go wait in the bedroom.”
“Just do it!”
He gives you a look before walking to the room. You close the bathroom door behind him, and look in the mirror. You take off your jeans and your shirt, revealing your outfit. You let down your hair so it falls down your back.
“Okay, close your eyes.” You yell down the hallway.
“Y/N, this is ridiculous-“
“Close your eyes!” You giggle.
“You been hanging around me too often.” He grumbles, but closes his eyes anyways. You walk in front of him and put his hands on your waist.
“Open them.” You whisper in his ear.
He opens his eyes and they go wide. You can see his towel start to raise a little bit, giving you a boost of confidence.
“I take back what I said earlier. This is not ridiculous at all.” He stares at you. “You’re so sexy.”
You crawl on top of him, kissing his neck and grinding your hips. You suck on his neck a little bit, leaving a mark.
“Fuck, Y/N.” He flips you over, him on top now. “I need to these off, now.” He slides your thong down your legs. “But this?” He points to your bustier. “This is staying on.”
He pins your legs to the bed as he kisses your thighs, making you squirm. His lips felt so good on your skin. His mouth finally reaches your clit, making you moan.
“Yes,” you breathe out. He goes faster, putting his finger inside. He always seems to know exactly what you want. His tongue circles around, his fingers going in and out at a fast pace, making the heat build up in your stomach. You grind your hips involuntarily against his face, which just makes him smirk and go faster.
“Riiiiick,” you moan out as your orgasm ripples throughout your body.
“Yes, baby?” He comes up from between your legs. You get on top of him once more, kissing his neck and trailing down his toned stomach. You reach his hard dick and swirl your tongue around his tip before slowly taking in his length down your mouth.
“Y/N,” He moans your name, and you start to bob your head faster, using your hand to help you out.
“I’m gonna cum in your mouth if you keep on doin’ that.” He manages to get out, which just makes you go faster. You feel cum shooting out of his tip and into your mouth. You pull away and somehow manage to swallow it all.
“That fuckin’ outfit, I swear to God.” Rick pants.
“Glad you liked it.” You crawled up next to his chest. He uses his free hand to play with your hair. “I love you.”