Wise Words From Snek

Turning white kitties into orange kitties

Wouldn't mind playing laser tag if it ended like that

Laser Tag

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,664

Summary: You play laser tag with your boyfriend Steve and his best friend Bucky. Since you’re just a plain ole civilian, you gotta use what non-Avenger skills you have to avoid losing. Hint: those skills involve Steve and kissing.

A/N: Look, I just want Steve & Bucky to be happy and do fun things, okay? So, this is obvs AU, and I regret nothing ;)

“Why do I have to wear purple?” you scowled over at Bucky.

He laughed, looking entirely too smug in his red vest. “Red’s my color, crybaby,” he said, gripping his bright red gun like only an ex murderous assassin could.

“And I can’t not wear blue,” Steve said, fastening the last strap on your vest. He wasn’t even being gropey, which made you pout.

“You guys are taking this laser tag thing waaay too seriously,” you huffed, glaring at Steve as he readjusted your grip on the purple gun until you held it properly.

He gave you his ‘aw shucks’ grin as he stepped away and pulled his own gun from across his back. “Every man—“

You raised an eyebrow.

“And gal,” he quickly added, “For him or herself, okay?” His smile slowly faded and was soon replaced by Captain America in the Field face.

Continuar a ler

When they wake up, it takes them a while to realise that they have me. I’m in their heads by then, and my wings are unfurled, the talons sunk into the brain. Groaning when they realise I’m with them, they try to go back to sleep. More sleep might be enough to drive me away, they think.

It doesn’t work like that.

Sara’s her name. Her lover whispers it when they both wake up, only minutes apart. I whisper the name, too—don’t worry, she can’t hear it—and I try to get a feel for her. Not a very expressive face, she keeps it blank and featureless. The sort of girl who’d hide inside a boring old cardigan and pretend she’s too good for fashion.

She groans louder and swivels her feet off of the bed, down to the floor.

“Bad sleep?” the partner asks.

“Headache.”

“Bad?”

“Explosive.”

That makes me smile. A lot of people just leave it at ‘headache’, like I don’t deserve any qualifiers, like I don’t deserve to be acknowledged in my uniqueness. But no, I like Sara now. I revel in her description of me, I hold the letters out on a string of gold, and I want the word tattooed onto my metaphorical forehead.

Explosive.

“Damn. I don’t wanna be you right now,” the partner mutters.

Beaming, I pulse harder and harder, beating down on the walls of the brain, breaking brick and shaking the mortar. It’s one thing to be admired by your friends, it’s another entirely to hear your enemies’ complaints. If you give them nothing to complain about, what even is the point of your existence?

“Please don’t.” Sara is dragging her feet towards the bathroom now. Her limbs feel numb. I hold on to what I’ve got.

“We’re out of pills, the painkillers, I mean.”

Sara glares at her partner. Well, she tries to, but I don’t think she quite manages. It’s enough to get the partner out of the bed, though.

“I’ll get some more from the pharmacy. You can rest easy today. You should call work, let them know you won’t make it.”

Sara has her fingers on her forehead now, and she’s rubbing her temples, rubbing her forehead, rubbing whatever part of the skin outside of her skull that she thinks I might be hiding in. It’s a pitiful attempt, if you know anything about me, about headaches in general.

“Rest easy! That’s an order, private!” the partner announces, tries to be cute.

“Just get out already!” Sara yells, and then she whines loudly, gripping her head and stumbling back towards the bed.

The partner is a little taken aback. “Sorry,” she says, and slips out of the room.

I continue to work my magic. The last one I had my talons in was an old lady who didn’t really make it all the way to the end of my tenure.

“I know you can hear me,” Sara says, and I glance up to see if her partner has returned. “Yes, you. Headache. I know you’re there.”

Releasing my hold, I stare at the end of the bed. Sara takes her hands off of her head and wraps them around her knees. “I don’t have much to say to you. Just know that you won’t make it out of my body. You won’t survive.”

“Explosive,” I whisper to myself. Was it the truth?

I did not knew I needed this but I definitely did. I’m such a whore for the way Ari is described 😭

How do they kiss you to break your last line of defence?

Andy Barber

Ransom Drysdale

Ari Levinson

Steve Rogers

Ah, I see you woke up this morning and chose violence 😡 Hahaha I looove this ask! I’d happily sell my soul to smooch any one of these babes. Or all of them. At once. 🫠 Okay, now I’m distracting myself lol. Let’s seeee…

Andy is gonna do that thing where he gently—carefully—cups your face between his big hands. He’s gonna duck close so his eyes can lock on yours and you can’t escape his intense, penetrating gaze. So you can see his desire for you shining from those baby blues of his. He’s gonna move slow, too, not only to draw it out and give you a chance to really resist if this isn’t what you want, but because there’s something about the anticipation. He wants to hear your breath catch. He wants to see the surrender in your eyes just before they close as his lips touch yours. His mouth on yours is somehow soft and frantic at once. You can tell he’s trying to rein himself in but as soon as a soft whimper bubbles up from the back of your throat and you’re clutching at his sides, it’s game over, sis, and he switches to devour mode 😮‍💨🤌🏻

Ransom’s move will be a tiny bit similar to Andy’s in that he’s cradling your face in his hands, but it’s nowhere as soft. He’s propelling you back into the closest wall, eyes twinkling at your quiet “oof.” His hands hold you tight because he’s not gonna give you that chance to escape. You’re his and this is happening, and he’ll make sure you like it, that you beg for more. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna throw in a, “You’re mine,” just before his lips close in on yours, and then he’s gonna kiss you fiercely, kiss you breathless, kiss you until your knees are buckling and you’re finally giving him that whimper as he licks his way into your mouth and makes sure his flavor is staining your tongue for a good, long while 😏

Ari is gonna use his considerable size difference compared to you to his advantage. He wants you to be hyper aware of him but at the same time, he’ll have the softest touch ever. Backing you into a piece of furniture and pinning you there. He’s quiet, which is a rarity for him, and emphasizes the intensity of the moment. He keeps his movements slow as he raises a hand to your throat. He doesn’t grip it though, instead he gently drags his knuckles down the smooth column, lips quirking just a bit when you shudder in response. Before you’ve full recovered from that solitary touch, his thumb is brushing along your lower lip, his hungry gaze fixed on your mouth, and then he’s gonna lift his eyes to yours and maintain eye contact as he slooowly closes in until his lips touch yours. That’s when he finally makes a sound, a relieved groan, the kind of deep, carnal sound that makes your pussy clench, and before you know it, you’re kissing him back just as urgently.

Steve is gonna pounce on you in a moment of feral passion. He’s done talking about why this is a bad idea, especially when the thought of it feels so right. He’s gonna sweep you up against him, one thick arm locking around your back as his other massive hand cradles the back of your head and keeps you in place for a thorough devouring. The kiss starts hard, but when you mewl into his mouth and cling to his shoulders—give into him—he slows it down, his touch growing softer at your surrender as he hums against your lips and deepens the kiss until you’re melting into his embrace and proving what he knew all along - you were meant to be his.

(Thank you for cumming to my horny TED talk 😅)

For the times I was afraid to go out.

For the times I couldn't wear what I liked.

For the times I couldn't afford to by a scarf I didn't even want.

For the times I had to take a detour to avoid morality police.

For Iranian women, for Iranian people!

Stand with us and be our voice!🇮🇷🕊

Just sending you some love, Dibs 😘

Also, imagine being seated between those thighs on a nice summer day *swoon* 🥰

How did I miss this ask? 😳 I love ya Carly 💞

But yes, sitting between his legs would be absolutely divine. Drabble time!

+++++

You were a scorned woman, set to marry the Prince. You were bred to rule beside a man, raised for the Crown. Hands unmarked of any labour, dress ironed and laying perfect over your figure and your virtue intact; you were the vision of a proper lady who would one day be a Queen.

The winds of scandal were sudden and took your life by a storm, ravaging your reputation and life in one fell swoop, and you were ruined. The woman who would have lived in a castle became a name whispered with suspicion, pity and scorn.

Sherlock did his best to save the last shreds of your dignity, proving your innocence and worth to the society. But a fallen woman is not easily raised, and your dreams of being a Queen were dashed away.

You didn't know what to do with your life then, having no further need of royal etiquette lessons. You found yourself leaning on the one man who had promised to salvage your image. He was witty, sharing the details of his cases that took your mind away from your future that seemed shrouded in fog.

Carriage rides, walks in the park, you didn't know when it happened when you stopped thinking before taking his hand and resting your head on his chest. His strong arms seemed to be the only thing holding you together.

You figured that he looked like a Prince too, with his curls fluttering in the summer breeze as he watched you approach him under the tree. His pipe was smoking and you felt jealous of it for it felt those sinful lips over it way more than you did.

"What are you thinking?" He asked you, offering you a hand and bringing you down to sit between his thighs. Strong muscle surrounded you, and his eyes pierced you like sunlight through rolling clouds.

"Don't you already know, Mr Holmes? They say you know everything." You whisper, bringing his pipe to your mouth and blowing smoke on his face. He smirks, holding you close and nuzzling your neck.

"Your mind? Yes. Teach me to read your heart." He said.

You shifted to look at him, your beacon of light that parted the clouds that surrounded you. His lap felt a way more worthy throne than the one in palace would have.

"For you, my heart is but a mirror. You'll only ever see yourself there."

+++++

One order of love, coming right up!!