#Blue Collar Gang

[mikey123d9]

Me and my bro

[silent-sentinels]

fuck it. everyone scooch, im taking a turn on the wheel.

[bixels]

Learning that fans hated Applejack and called her "boring" is crazyyy to me because I genuinely, unironically believe AJ's the most complex character in the main six.

Backstory-wise, she was born into a family of famers/blue collar workers who helped found the town she lives in. She grew up a habitual liar until she had the bad habit traumatized outta her. She lost both her parents and was orphaned at a young age, having to step up as her baby sister's mother figure. She's the only person in the main gang who's experienced this level of loss and grief (A Royal Problem reveals that AJ dreams about memories of being held by her parents as a baby). She moved to Manhattan to live with her wealthy family members, only to realize she'll never fit in or be accepted, even amongst her own family. The earlier seasons imply she and her family had money problems too (In The Ticket Master, AJ wants to go to the gala to earn money to buy new farm equipment and afford hip surgery for her grandma).

Personality-wise, she's a total people-pleaser/steamroller (with an occasional savior complex) who places her self worth on her independence and usefulness for other people, causing her to become a complete workaholic. In Applebuck Season, AJ stops taking care of herself because of her obsessive responsibilities for others and becomes completely dysfunctional. In Apple Family Reunion, AJ has a tearful breakdown because in she thinks she dishonored her family and tarnished her reputation as a potential leader –– an expectation and anxiety that's directly tied to her deceased parents, as shown in the episode's ending scene. In The Last Roundup, AJ abandons her family and friends out of shame because believes she failed them by not earning 1st place in a rodeo competition. She completely spirals emotionally when she isn't able to fulfill her duties toward others. Her need to be the best manifests in intense pride and competitiveness when others challenge her. And when her pride's broken, she cowers and physically hides herself.

Moreover, it's strongly implied that AJ has a deep-seated anger. The comics explore her ranting outbursts more. EQG also obviously has AJ yelling at and insulting Rarity in a jealous fit just to hurt her feelings (with a line that I could write a whole dissection on). And I'm certain I read in a post somewhere that in a Gameloft event, AJ's negative traits are listed as anger.

Subtextually, a lot of these flaws and anxieties can be (retroactively) linked to her parents' death, forcing her to grow up too quickly to become the adult/caregiver of the family (especially after her big brother becomes semiverbal). Notice how throughout the series, she's constantly acting as the "mom friend" of the group (despite everything, she manages to be the most emotionally mature of the bunch). Notice how AJ'll switch to a quieter, calmer tone when her friends are panicking and use soothing prompts and questions to talk them through their emotions/problems; something she'd definitely pick up while raising a child. Same with her stoicism and reluctance at crying or releasing emotions (something Pinkie explicitly points out). She also had a childhood relationship with Rara (which, if you were to give a queer reading, could easy be interpreted as her first 'aha' crush), who eventually left her life. (Interestingly enough, AJ also has an angry outburst with Rara for the same exact reasons as with EQG Rarity; jealous, upset that someone else is using and changing her). It's not hard to imagine an AJ with separation anxiety stemming from her mother and childhood friend/crush leaving. I'm also not above reading into AJ's relationship with her little sister (Y'all ever think about how AB never got to know her parents, even though she shares her father's colors and her mother's curly hair?).

AJ's stubbornness is a symptom of growing up too quickly as well. Who else to play with your baby sister when your brother goes nonverbal (not to discount Big Mac's role in raising AB)? Who else to wake up in the middle of the night to care for your crying baby sister when your grandma needs her rest? When you need to be 100% all the time for your family, you tend to become hard-stuck with a sense of moral superiority. You know what's best because you have to be your best because if you're aren't your best, then everything'll inevitably fall apart and it'll be your fault. And if you don't know what's best –– if you've been wrong the whole time –– that means you haven't been your best, which means you've failed the people who rely on you, which means you can't fulfill your role in the family/society, which makes you worthless . We've seen time and time again how this compulsive need to be right for the sake of others becomes self-destructive (Apple Family Reunion, Sound of Silence, all competitions against RD). We've seen in The Last Roundup how, when no longer at her best, AJ would rather remove herself from her community than confront them because she no longer feels of use to them.

But I guess it is kinda weird that AJ has "masculine" traits and isn't interested in men at all. It's totally justified that an aggressively straight, misogynistic male fandom would characterize her as a "boring background character." /s

At the time of writing this, it's 4:46AM.

[kngrose]

hii! I love your bully!Sevika headcannons sm

what if she finds reader beaten up and on the brink of death in some long forgotten alley one day?

and reader be like: came to finish me off, huh?

𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘! 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀

when someone touches what’s hers

WARNINGS: minor depictions of violence, mentions of abuse, implied power dynamics

from roselí. ᡣ𐭩 : anon this was suuuuch a good idea. i put my own little twist on it.

It’d been a long day.

The usual hussle and bussle of the undercity; dealing with the volatile gang ordeals, organizing shipments of Shimmer, cleaning up after Silco’s blue haired mess, and of course getting into close details with Silco himself.

It’d been a very long day.

She would frequent the brothel in her free time, trying on different bodies everytime she went. It was a good detresser— a quick nut after a long day to really end the night right. If not there, she’d be found at the last drop, sipping slowly on brown liquor while she enjoys a few rounds of poker for a bet.

It helped, it did.

But nothing compared to her little plaything.

She’d make it her mission everyday to track down her favorite little target. Her lips always curled into a smirk at the thought of you— shy, fragile, and oh-so-easy to toy with. Hers to provoke, hers to corner, hers to dominate. It was the best stress reliever.

To finally have something to really sink her teeth into. Something to break slowly over time, all in her control. It felt nice to have control. To finally not be under someone’s wing. It was relieving to take out all that anger, all that sadness, every sadistic urge. It wasn’t anything personal, you’d just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But today was different.

She didn’t feel that satisfaction as she navigates through the usual chaos—shouting vendors, the clatter of machinery, and the occasional muffled scream carried through the maze of alleyways. Sevika strode through it all like a storm given flesh, her mechanical arm glinting in the faint light.

The alley was dark, the harsh glow of Zaun's neon lights flickering erratically, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing in Sevika's chest. Her boots echoed like thunder as she stormed down the narrow path, her anger a palpable force that crackled in the air. She had just gotten word that someone had beat her property to a bloody pulp.

She rounded the corner, her eyes scanning the scene. There, slumped against a dumpster, was her victim— bruised, bloodied, and barely conscious. Sevika's jaw clenched. Her heart, if she had one, seemed to twist in her chest. There was a flash of fury, and it took everything in her to restrain herself. Her fingers flexed, aching to crush the throat of whoever had dared to harm what was hers.

No one was allowed to lay a hand on her prey except for her.

You were crumpled on the ground, lip split, bruises blooming across your delicate skin. Blood trickled from your nose, staining your collar. You flinched as you tried to sit up, only to let out a pained hiss.

She marched toward you, boots echoing ominously in the alley. You peered up, eyes widening in fear as if expecting more punishment. Sevika crouched down in front of you, her jaw clenched so tightly it felt like her teeth might crack.

“Who the hell did this to you?” Sevika snarled, her voice like gravel, rough and dangerous. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, but there was no one in sight. She knelt in front of you, a hand gently— but possessively cupping your chin, lifting your face.

You stammered, trying to form words, but her sharp glare silenced them, “I said, who. Did. This.”

Her mind was a mess of confusion and rage. She wasn't supposed to care—not about you, not about the bloodstains on your clothes or the way your eyes barely fluttered open. But she did. She did, and it was making her sick.

"I-I don't know... They... they came out of nowhere. I didn't mean to... to make them angry..." You wheezed in a breath, “Why… did you come to finish the job?” You said, a little snarkily for someone in your position. Sevika's gaze darkened, lips curling into a snarl. "Why didn't you fight back?" she growled, as if the idea that you hadn't defended yourself was a personal betrayal. Her concern for your well-being was entirely overshadowed by her frustration that you hadn't done enough to prevent this from happening in the first place.

She wiped away the blood on your face with the back of her hand, not bothering to hide her disgust, "God, you're so pathetic," she muttered under her breath. "I told you to stay close, didn't I? This is why I tell you to stay put." She spat.

"You shouldn't have been here," Sevika hissed, her voice dangerously low, filled with venom. "You shouldn't have let anyone hurt you." She ran her thumb over your bruised cheek, but it wasn't the soothing gesture it appeared to be. It was possessive. Violent. "I should be the only one to do this to you."

It was daunting really, her way of thinking. How dare she? Stomping in here like she cared. Like she actually cared about your well being. Her concern was twisted—contorted into something dark, something dangerous. She wasn't concerned about your safety, your pain. She was concerned about how this made her look. How it threatened her claim on you. This was hers. You were hers. Goddamn it this was the only thing—!

Sevika's anger didn't fade. In fact, it boiled hotter now. How dare you go off and get yourself hurt like this? She had always been there to make you feel small, to bring you down to your knees, to remind you who you belonged to. But this?

This was your biggest show of audacity yet.

Sevika dragged you to your feet, her hands firm but rough. She forced you to meet her gaze, her eyes wild with fury. "Don't you ever let someone else touch you again. You hear me?" she spat, her voice thick with a possessiveness that bordered on madness. "You're mine to hurt, mine to break. No one else gets that privilege." She pulled you close, your battered body cradled against her. In that moment, there was no tenderness, only a suffocating, possessive need.

“But don’t worry,” she murmured, cracking her knuckles, “I’ll make sure they never even think about coming near you again.” Her smirk etched its way onto her face, sharper than ever. “But you? You and I still need to have a talk about how you let this happen.”

Without waiting for an answer, Sevika turned, already plotting how to make an example of whoever crossed the line. You sat there trembling and confused— you could only watch her disappear into the shadows, fearfully thinking of what that ‘talk’ would consist of.

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[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings Reacting To You Saying You Are Pregnant

Writing Comission’s Are Open

William ‘Bill’

“Excuse me-?” He was left practically speechless, when he picked up the onesie on his bedside table. A little blue thing, with the words To The Moon And Back. He was so full of emotions. Panic, excitement, horror, joy. Would the baby inherit his wolf tendencies? Would something go wrong, because of his bad blood? He was so scared. Would you be in danger, because of him? With his eyes turning to you, and seeing that excited smile, he couldn’t help but calm down. Teddy existed after all, didn’t he? He was as fine as he could be. The idea of holding his own little ball of joy. To see that orange hair, and watch you nurse. “I’m going to be a dad….” He trailed, with a smile. “I’m going to be a dad-“ He repeated, as he would hold the little sleep wear to his chest. Tears ran down his broken cheeks, as he kept reacting it. So full of pride. He’s going to be a dad, with you.

Charlie

“IM GONNA BE A DAD-!” He was screaming, bloody damn murder, as he was running around at the sanctuary. Screaming it with pride, as you chased after him. Just laughing, as the dragons would lift up their heads. “IM A DAD IM A DAD IM A DAD-!” He keeps roaring, as the dragons would tilt their heads. Watching their motherly figure jump for joy. Literally. “Charlie-!” You laughed, as he was just to full of excitement. Laughing, cheering, and crying. That’s when one of the older mothers would grab him by the collar. Yanking him into the air, before plopping him right next to you. As if to convey that he better step up now. That had you laugh, as he pouted at her. “I am I am-!” He said, before he was on his knees. Holding your belly. “I’m gonna be your daddy-!” He squealed, as he kissed it over. All the excitement getting the new borns curious, but those mothers made sure they didn’t get to close. Letting him have his moment. A new baby, to join the herd.

Percy

“You cannot be serious-“ Percy was blinking, as he had hardly taken two steps through the fire place. Just gotten off work, early for once, only to be surprised by you making a baby box. It was meant to be a surprise, and something you would give to him after dinner. Seems like he was still surprised, regardless. “Who had the baby this time-?” He asked, as he would set his belongings where they were designated. That had you snort, as it didn’t quite dawn on him yet. With the fact you didn’t say anything, he turned around. “Honey?” He asked again, as you keep smiling. Slowly, the gears turned, before he was left with his cloak dropped from his hands. It was him. He didn’t expect that. Was like the last one to join the family gang. He couldn’t help his worry. He didn’t exactly grow up to well. He wasn’t to well connected with his family, and only came around when it was almost to late. He didn’t want that to happen to his kid. To have such a divide. You could tell he was worried, and patted the seat next to you. He joined, and you would kiss his head. “Who do you wanna tell first?” You asked, as he held your hand. The name he said, reassured himself that this kid won’t have that tension. Not like what he made. “George is perfect.” Another kiss to his head, as the plans were made. A big and happy family.

Fred

The words barley left your lips, before you were tossed over his shoulder. As quickly as you were tossed, you were soon hearing the noise of the busy shop. "HEY EVERYONE!" He shouted, causing everyone to look up at one of the railings. George as well, with curious eyes all the same. "IM GONNA BE A DAD, AND GEORGE IS GONNA BE A UNCLE!" He cheered, and everyone was a roar of cheers as well. George was quick to drop what he was doing, and soon aparate next to him. "Put your damn mother to be down!" He laughed, as Fred finally set you down. All three of you in a warm, and tight, hug. "i'm gonna be a uncle!" George cheered, as you laughed. You had to wonder who was more excited for the baby. Your husband, or his twin? It did not matter to you. They were both so happy for this wonderful news. They just could not let you go, as they were just laughing in joy. Children. More children. What could make them hate that?

George

"Pregnant?" He whispered, as he almost looked like he would burst into tears. "I heard that right, didn't I?" He asked, as he felt over the scarred skin that was once his ear. You nodded, before you held up your hands. You could not grasp sign as fast as George did, but you knew the alphabet. P.R.E.G.N.A.N.T. Pregnant. He was soon tackling you, as he was sobbing into your shoulder. "I'm going to be a dad-" He sobbed, as you rubbed his back. Some joy, in his world of darkness. You had fallen pregnant, not long after the death of Voldemort. Made senes, since the stress was gone. For you, anyway. "Jellybean....If its a boy...." You would peck his cheek, and nod. "A boy, Fred. If a girl, Fredrick works as a beautiful middle name." You comforted, getting another hiccup in return. The world was moving on, but the world will not be forgotten. Fred lived on, and hes going to be your tiny terror. How excited you two were, for it.

Ron

“No-“ He gasped. “Really-? No-! Are you-? No-“ Was like he was trapped in a loop, as he now paced around your living room. Looking at you, before looking at his feet, then repeating. As if every time he made a full pace, he turned. You had to admit, was pretty adorable. Figured news like this would make your Auror husband short circuit a bit. You let him pace, with a smile. Just grinning, as he was trying to register it all. Suppose work fatigue makes anyone’s brain mush. Especially a job like his. You would watch him pace, until his brain was finally registering that YEP you are indeed pregnant. “Bloody hell….IM GONNA BE A DAD-!” His face was beaming, before he was stealing you into his arms. He was exhausted, but not tired enough to not huggle and cuddle. “We need to tells ‘Mione and Harry-! Oh those two will be so excited-!” He beams. Uncle Harry and Auntie Hermione. He was going to crush you, you swore, if he kept being so happy. “Blimey, guess that over time is finally coming in handy.” You hated his over time, but he had a point. Now you two had a secure start. That had you relax a little more. “Hope Harry doesn’t mine if I slow down on my career a little.” You would stroke his hair, and pecked his cheek. “He’s Harry. I’m doubtful he will be made you want to not be dead on a side walk, and leave me a single parent.” You snorted. “Yeah, probably doesn’t want history repeating.” Morbid, but point proven. “Gonna be a dad-“ He kept smiling, as he pulled you into his lap. Unable to stop holding you close. He was so happy, and you were all the same. Your family.

Ginny

“SHUT UP-!” She gasped, as she was looking towards the Quidditch stands. No way was she seeing what she was seeing. Your wife just won the first game of the season, and she was looking straight at you. In the VIP seats, and holding up a sign. I’m Pregnant. In bold and colorful letters, so she couldn’t miss it. “NO WAY-!” Ginny kept screaming, as her team mates looked over, as they were shaking hands with the enemy team. “What’s up?!” One of them asked. “IM GONNA BE A MUM-!” Ginny cheered, as that had all the broomstick flyers stare towards where her eyes looked. “CONGRATS-!” The enemy seeker said, with a clap. Good sportsmanship. “IM GONNA BE A MUM-!” What a way to start her quidditch season. The first win, and the fact she’s going to be a mom. “Well, go and fly over-!” A team mate smacked her back, and she wasn’t needed to told twice. The fans went nuts, with famous Quidditch Star Ginny Weasley was flying towards the stands. Right to you, and nearly tackling you down in the box. The fellow VIP seaters clapped for you two, as she planted a big kiss on you. Tears in the corner of her eyes, as she hugged you tightly. “You knew I would win, didn’t you?” She asked. “No, but I mean what better way to recover from a loss?” That had her smack your shoulder, but she was soon was wiping her eyes on her gloves. “Oh fuck, look at me. Crying like a girl-“ She joked, as she sniffled. She was so happy, and you were as well. She just couldn’t contain her joy. Her, you, and your own little precious snitch. What more could a girl want?

[lizardsfromspace]

Considering all the viral attention given to Drew Carey over his support of striking writers, it kind of sucks that The Drew Carey Show isn't streaming anywhere, except the first season

In fact, only the first season was ever released on DVD, too, due to music rights. Which sucks bc if you never saw it, or don't remember it, The Drew Carey Show was not some Home Improvement esque stand-up sitcom hackjob. It was a proto-Community prone to surreal gimmicks and wacky special episodes. These included "spot the mistakes!" episodes and improvisational crossovers with Whose Line, but also "after an office prank, Drew wakes up in China" (filmed on location in China), "Rocky Horror vs Priscilla Queen of the Desert drag danceoff musical number", and "the gang descends into a science lab to save a dog & come across mutants and strange experiments". It seemed weirder than something like Community though bc it was rooted so heavily in mundane 90s blue collar workcom aesthetics, then it would reveal the guy-of-the-week the female lead was dating was literally the Devil

Anyway the only way to watch anything but the first season is piracy, and likely always will be. Fun!

[heartfullofleeches]

Murder Clown Gang and Jester Demon Reader- Specifically one that has a tiny human form, and a massive true form. They wear baggy clothes so their clothing doesn't tear when they switch back and forth.

The horny levels of these dorks would be off the scales-

-

[Blue smashes open the cage Jester Reader was locked in by their victims for the evening. Reader peaks out of their cell, gazing at the bodies of the cultists littering the floor]

Murder Clown (Pink): Ohhh- Bless your poor heart. Come here, little one. We won't hurt you.

Jester Reader: !!! [Squeezes past Pink, tripping over the cuffs of their baggy pants as they attempt to flee]

Murder Clown (Purple): Would ya look at that. They're practically swimming in those clothes.

Murder Clown(Green) - mouth covered in red: Poor thing looks like they're starving. Looks like we're the heros this evening. Hehehe - I don't mind sharing if they could use a bite....

Murder Clown (Orange): The cops will be here any second. Can't one of us just throw them over their shoulder and carry them out?

Murder Clown (Red): Give them a minute. I doubt you'd trust anyone after being stuck in a cage for god knows how long.

Murder Clown (Blue): U-uh....guys?

[Jester Reader rises to their knees, drying their tears on their sleeves as they climb to their feet. A sickening pop! can be heard as one of their arms shoots out of their sleeve. One by one, their limbs grow - the rest of their body rapidly morphing to match. Their once loose fitting clothes stretches tightly around their figure, the button of their collar narrowly missing Orange's eye as it flies off. The entire group stare at the demon - their horns scraping the roof of the basement]

Murder Clown (Purple): ......Dibs.

[darkdemeter]

BY THEIR LEASH

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! Female Reader Mafia stuff — mention of death — alcohol consumption (like a lot) — 18+ SMUT, MINORS DNI — Porn with plot? — lesbian sex — threesome — may be some grammar errors and such — slight bondage — little bit of muscle/stomach riding if you squint your eyes, turn your head that way... — I think that's it? ✎ 4.3k

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

  An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true. 

  Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation. 

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration. 

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market. 

  That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay. 

  At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

  Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t worth every single cent he spent on you three years ago. 

  Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs. 

  The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs. 

  Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one. 

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.” 

  You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot. 

  Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment. And not too soon after is it halfway downed.

  “Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particularly deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need another refill and pronto. 

  “People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.” 

  “He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere shot in the back?”

  You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.” 

  Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

  In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women. 

  You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

  In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his hand, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

  The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work. 

  For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless. 

  When Steve casts a hardened stare your way, you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender. 

  “Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

  “Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

  You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your renewed liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress? 

  “Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun. 

  “Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

  “Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.” 

  She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow. 

  Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support. 

  Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs.

  But she never committed to joining forces. 

  You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress. 

  Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand. 

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

  For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included. 

  Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous. 

  She’s facing you, back arched and arse resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, a sweet bouquet of lavender which rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin. 

  “I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow. 

  Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

  “Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress. 

  “You really think she wants a guard dog?” 

  “Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you. 

  “We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

  “No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

  She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

  “I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

  Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

  “And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

  “Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you. 

  You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you. 

  “Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue. 

  At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head. 

  “I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.” 

  Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

  “I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

  This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help. 

  Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing. Refilling your empty glass with more liquor. You’ve yet to scratch the surface of being tipsy. 

  “Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment, for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.” Steve is calm in his approach to reason with her, but if anything, her raised hand indicates her refusal, unswayed by the honey of his words. Your tongue rolls the rounds of your mouth, each time measured by your impatience as you slowly circle around the dealings table, unable to find yourself comfortable against the stiffened wood of your seat. 

  “You do realise that you’re asking for more than your so-called ‘support’ is actually worth.” You blink several times, the blow of it a downright attack on their egos. 

  “No, I want something more.”

  “And I want alcohol to affect me so I can sleep well at night,” you mutter to the glassy rim against your bottom lip. Wanda’s eyes flicker to you, bearing down a sinister glare. “Excuse me?”

  “And we were just about to suggest that very thing!” Tony interjects with a grin, eager to utilise his card, his Ace Wolf as he liked to call you. He gestures to where you stand now at the table’s other end.

  She directs her eyes to look you up and down slowly, gaze polished with keen observation. She hums thoughtfully before she looks to Natasha. 

  “E atât de bună?”

  The red haired chuckles and sitting back in her chair, chest heaving with a breathy sigh, she nods. 

  “Exceptional de bun. Cu o limbă ca asta…”

  Bucky shifts in his seat, a hollow whistle on his lips over the exchange of heated words, and you flash a grin at both women. The words of foreign tongue, however, pass over the heads of the other men, their eyes looking to either you or Bucky only to be answered with a shrug, but knowing that look in your eyes, they can take a good guess as to what’s being discussed. 

  With another passing frame of time, both women pull away from their engrossed conversation. “I’ve been made aware that you intend to bargain your wolf to me,” she says, once again letting her sight fall on you. 

  “And if that is the case, and what I have been told…” She trails off momentarily, finding to correct herself in the midst of something you can smell very clearly on her - or rather between her legs. “Then I’ll accept.”

  Each man present in the room is given pause to revel in the stun before them. Wanda Maximoff, the heiress of Europe’s biggest family, accepts their deal. All at the price of you. 

“You’ll have your answer by tomorrow, Mr Stark,” Wanda says, standing from her chair, she beckons you to follow with a kink of her fingers. One by one and following in unison, their eyes turn to you as you shuffle back on your heel with shrug your shoulders and fanged grin.

  “Animal magnetism, boys.”

  Wanda’s heels bound a steady beat as she wanders over to the foot of her bed, making an elegant show of swaying her hips and drawing your attention to her form. From behind, Natasha slips the dark suit jacket from your shoulders. Tosing it aside, her hands play the form of an enchanting guide, ushering you forward while tracing the hidden curves of your muscles. 

  “As per courtesy, Miss Maximoff wants the first claim.” 

  You huff in reply, “And you?”

  Natasha hums softly and plucks your belt loose from your trousers. “I have you two, I won’t go unsatisfied tonight.”

  Tilting your head to view Wanda who stands idle, fingers playing with the lining of her dress above her breasts, you stalk towards her, her back arching under your touch with a breathless whimper, you trail the zip of her gown down slowly. Falling around her ankles as a fabricated halo, she turns suddenly and your lips collide together in hunger.

  She sinks down to the bed, laying back until her hair fans around her, spreading her legs apart. That feverish hunger boils within your blood, running it hold and thick, the fur beneath your skin bristled in your excitement as you take care to roll the sleeves of your skirt to your elbows. To your knees, you’re brought to the sight of her soaked underwear, the dark patch evidently giving away just how badly she required you between her quivering thighs. Natasha’s hands rake through the length of your hair and scratches at your scalp, earning a low purr of pleasure to rumble in your chest. 

You lean forward and all it takes is a single inhale and you’re let loose of your chain of control, claws shearing the fabric that dares to confine her awaiting cunt any longer. She gasps upon contact, your lips smothering her moistened, slick lips and she gives a deep-noted moan, arching her hips up, your hands wrap around her thighs to drag her to you more. 

 She tastes like the fine wines of heaven, a forbidden savour on the tongue that which you greedily lap, your eyes close as you succumb to the wolf’s hunger, tongue lapping heavily at her clit.

  She whines and cries, breath hot and light in her lungs as her nails rip into the sheets to no damaging avail.  Natasha hovers above, watching on in her own longing and desire. She dips a hand beneath the hem of her dress, aside she pushes her own soaked panties and delicately dances her fingers over the sensitive bulb with a keening breath you hear catch in her throat. 

  Natasha leans down low until the scape of her breasts brushes against your shoulder blade, lips a tantalising thing and moving sinfully to mouth, “I’m touching myself to you.”

  “Watching you please her is making me so wet, Wolf.”

  “Make us both cum.”

  You growl deeply and Wanda’s body visibly shudders in response to the wild vibrations that course through her abdomen, shaking her whole and off centre, her hips begin to jerk as she nears her climax. Both women mingle in their euphoria and your own core comes to life, sparked by the noises they make in unison, an orchestra of pleasure. Suckling and licking at her core, she cries out and the lips of her pussy shrink around absence and she sighs in bliss. In tandem, Natasha moans loudly from behind and you feel her body press against you as her hand works hard as fucking her fingers into her cunt, the sound of slick and skin melding together addicting.

  “You weren’t… kidding, Nat,” she says between laboured breaths. 

  Slowing your advances, you finally pull away with a sigh, her juices glistening on your lips. Wanda looks at you and her cheeks flush at the sight before Natasha’s other hand forces your attention to her. Her lips connect with yours and her tongue darts over the bottom of yours, tasting Wanda with a delicious sound that you swallow. 

  After she pulls from you, she then shares a look with Wanda and the two of them grin. “Shall we reward her?” 

  “I think she’s been a good girl.”

  Oh, how the wolf loves that. Praise for a job well done you can hardly suppress your proud smirk. Buu before you can do much else, Natasha pushes you and your knees are knocked out from beneath you, Wanda having rolled to the side only to follow Natasha’s lead as they both halfway straddle you, otherwise keeping you pinned to the mattress below. 

  Together they peel away your dress pants, giggling and muttering to one another in that alluring tongue, your mind in a haze to catch barely a sentence shared between them but you gained awareness of what they intended when they each stroked their tongues over your stimulated pearl. 

  “‘Sh–shit!” you hiss sharply and your hips buck, the two women giggling at the sight of you writhing. 

  They give no further warning as they duck down. Their mouths work together against your clit, suckling it to draw pathetic whines from that deep part inside you dare not let anyone see, their voices trespass the air with betraying praises that speak only of teases and their tongues lap at the slick of your pussy that clenches at the attention. Your hands grapple the sheets and tear hard, the damage unnoted and not cared for. 

  “Girls– fuck!” you groan at the rise in your core, oh so ready to reach that climactic end that you have been denied for the past several weeks. It’s not too long that your first release has you whining, the nois a higher pitched sound that does slowly in broken notes as you cum, the girls moaning and allowing their lips to graze one another as they lapped and sucked you. 

  Wanda is the first to make eye contact and move towards you, her leg swoops over to fully straddle your stomach, in her hands is your belt. She rips the centre of your shirt apart, buttons flying to discarded corners of the room to be mere pebbles of disregard.

  You see the way her eyes drink in the sight of your toned muscles, the pinky tip of her tongue darting over her wet lips. 

  She adores the way you tilt your head to the side, a curious whine on your lips. “I’ve always wanted something on a leash. May I?”

  You don’t particularly care for the way her question hits a mark submerged deeper into your heart, reaching for something you denied was there. Dignity. Usually people just took from you and you came to accept that. Expect it. 

  You nod up at her and she fixes the belt around the column of your neck, the leather cool against the blazing heat of your skin, but something inside you flutters. Quickly, you push it down. 

  Natasha moves into the same position behind Wanda, your larger size very much able to accommodate both of them, Natasha trails light kisses along Wanda’s shoulder as she fastens the belt and gives an experimental tug. A soft grunt hitches in your throat in retort and you flash her a grin, the sharpened points of your fangs perched against your bottom lip. 

  “The wolf never let me tame her, Miss Maximoff.”

  “Oh, she just needed some reassurance,” Wanda replies gently with a smile. For a moment, you wanted to believe her words were sincere. Your hands run along Wanda’s thighs until they reach her hips and with a roll forward, she grinds her pussy against your torso, feeling the defined muscles press and tense against her, bringing her to moan under her breath. Natasha drapes a hand over your own to roll and pinch Wanda’s swollen clit, her eyes finding yours.

  “Watch her,” she commands breathlessly and you do so, amber glows in fluorescent pulses as Wanda biomes slick with her arousal. The fine artistry of their bodies moving together as they roll and grind against you, you cannot help but reach a hand up, claw catching the thin silk of Wanda’s bra and severing the contraption into two, letting it fall and reveal her plump breasts; her nipples erect. 

  Wanda circles an arm behind her and behind Natasha’s head, her back arching to the pleasure she becomes lost in, and you purely enjoy the show above, admiring the glow of sweat collecting on their skin, groaning as their slick covers your stomach as they ride you. The hand working Wanda’s clit speeds up and then slows, teasing the heiress, she gives you a sly grin. 

  “Do that thing with the claws,” she says and Wanda’s eyes open, as if awakening from her bliss and becoming enlightened with wonderment. 

  “W-what thing?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  You sit by the bed, elbow propped up on the chair’s arm with a glass in your grasp, imagination lost in the reverie of last night’s events with a smirk carved into your mouth. Both women lay wrapped together, bodies nude and pressed up to each other as they continue to sleep. You surely tired them out. 

  Thankfully and mostly dressed when Tony came wandering in, the band of his fellow brothers staying just beyond the room’s threshold, though it still didn’t make to hide the snarl creeping up your throat as the sudden intrusion. You take a sip of your drink as Tony scans the room, gaze flickering between the two women and you who bares an illuminated glare at him.

  “What the hell happened last night?”

  “We got her affirmative answer on the deal,” you answer with a raise of your glass in cheers before downing the last of your drink.

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Long overdue, finally knocking this one out before it gets retired to permanent draft status ughhhh... *proceeds to fall face first in tired raccoon*

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @alexawynters @alyciaddict @simpforlizzie @literaturedog @maladaptive-daydreamz @mathxa @blackbirdv98

[jackalopenecropsy]

ok i'll indulge myself....

part 1(?) of biker gang!141 and an interesting fem grunge!reader... if u want more

cw; slight mentions of blood

The streets were pretty quiet this time of night. The only sounds to be heard were barking dogs or tires occasionally skidding in the distance. And the teenagers were never out this late in the fall, as school just started or they were working their dead jobs at the gas station or high school graduates pouring the same 5 drinks at a bar.

You liked walking around- even though it was maybe 1 or 2 in the morning- mainly because you had your scary guard dog with you, (who wasn't even a bit scary, he was just a police academy dropout with a fear of cotton swabs and squirrels) but also because the air this time of year smelled the best. It did wonders for your skin and sinuses, so why not? Walking around in the daytime was a lot more of a chore anyways, teenagers skating sporradically with fruity vapes on necklaces or older men just leaving their blue collar jobs for lunch while staring at you with unreadable expressions.

The northwoods, sigh. You'd told yourself that you'd leave it all the time when you were a kid. Over the years, a mix of the economy making that absolutely impossible and an aquirement of taste for small-town life made it a lot easier to accept the impossibility of it. Bartending and eventually being remote in editorial work kept you afloat in the small house you'd been able to buy flat out in the south side of town.

That part of town was just cemeteries and neighborhoods, neighborhoods and railroads, and gas stations and bars. As most south sides were. Another luxury of living where you lived was the copious amounts of streets and drag-worthy strips of old highway that laid for miles in one direction or another.

You used to work as a freelance flag girl for drag racers on some shitty craigslist copy, but quit l because the only racers that wanted you were full of white-claw drunk young assholes rooting for douchebag car modders who compensated for their dick sizes by throttling so hard that the pop of their exhausts sounded like gunfights. It was too loud and to risky and too tasteless.

But in the ends of the summer, it was taken over by the bikers. Not bicycle-bikers, but motorcyclists.

You were absolutely terrible at hiding your drooling depraved stares at every single one of them. The young women in skin-clad leather and red lipstick with matching sleek bikes, the finer-aged older men in their lean-back harleys with bandanas, the cute guys your age in their blackout helmets and their modestly-modded bikes. Oh, the variety, oh the taste. You had once thought about picking up biking yourself, but when you told your friends they all cackled at the idea. You were too absent minded at times; definitely from all the weed you smoked. Only half embarassed, you agreed.

Tonight was no different than the other nights of early Septembers before. Your dog lapped his tongue in the air catching stray dew drops falling from leaves overhead as you took your time walking accross the street. He swayed his tail so hard that you almost got knocked over a few times. The sound of a motorcyle revving in the distance made you slow your speed to a halt, listening intently, shamefully to see if you could get any bit of eye candy while out.

You recognized the sound of the engine, which soon became engines as the sounds came closer.

'Oh... a group of Kawaskis?? No... that's at least two more different motorcyles, but a few Kawaskis.. Do I hear a Harley?'

You blinked to yourself before shaking your head.

'God fucking damnit, you geek. You should NOT be able to tell what motorcyle model someone's riding from the fucking engine.'

Before you can shamefully walk back towards your house, you feel your dog tug harshly at his leash. You try to hold him back, but he yanks with one solid push of his back paws on the blacktop, and before you know it, you're hands and knees down on the hard ground as he's running full speed towards the sound of the motorcycles.

You groan in frustration as you stand up in a small bit of pain, your fishnets torn to shit as your palms and knees are scraped just enough to bleed a reasonable amount for getting launched by a 90 lb dog of muscle.

"Riley!" You shout and run at him, dodging a few trash cans along the street's edge as you do so. "Riley, goddamnit! Come back! Here boy!" Your converse were broken in enough to give you good ground as you chased him, and you almost grab his loose leash dragging behind him- until you trip over your own feet again just before you do.

You stay on the ground this time, unworried for your dog, as he's a big boy who knows how to not get hit by a car or get lost. More focused on the soul-eating embarassment of being outrun by a dog with more anxiety than a war veteran, and tripping twice in the process. You ignore the growing and stalling sound of engines beside- or in front, you can't tell being face down in the gravel- you as you're grovelling.

"Eh... excuse me miss? Are you alright?" You hear a gruff, dark voice mumble from just above you. You whip your head up to look at 5 people in bikers helmets just in front of you, their motorcyles off or stalling as they stand looking down at you on the ground.

"Oh- oh my- uh yeah- don't worry about me I'm great. I just tripped- nothing serious." You wave them off as you try and cover the growing fluster on your face. You stand and shake the dirt off your hands before swiping it off of your zip up, shaking it out of your gloves too. You look up to see none other than Riley, sitting contently behind the man in front of you, eagerly being pet by one of the bikers with a skull design painted onto his helmet and visor.

"Riley!" The biker looks up and your dog wags his tail hard enough to knock the bikers over too, and barks at you. "You are so not going to get any treats when we get home." He whines and continues barking, then twirls in a circle.

"You're dog's name is Riley?" The man in the skull helmet asks- and you suddenly become hyperaware of how all of the bikers are staring so intently at you. And those that have spoken so far have sickeningly thick English accents.

"Ah- yes, yeah. I was just on a walk and I heard you guys from the other street- but he just loves motorcylists so much, he took off on me. Usually he just waits until they pass us by. I'm so so sorry if he got in your way or anything." You scramble to try and seem somewhat normal as you switch between standing like a deer in their headlights, and holding your arms as the wind blew against your back.

"Ain't that a funny coincidence." The biker next to him stated, his accent thicker, and different. Possibly scottish.

"You watch it- It is a good name for a dog like this." The skull-helmet points an authoritative finger at the scot before patting Riley's head again. The man in front of you laughs heartily and takes his helmet off, revealing an older- FINELY aged man with hair in a short, short pulled back light brown and gray spotted ponytail. His mustache pulled down into a scruffy beard by mutton chops, giving him a real grizzly harley-rider look. You swore your jaw dropped when he took it off, and you were quick to cover your mouth when he smiled at you.

"I'm sorry about that miss- You've got a good dog protecting you. My names John Price." He walked up and took your hand from your face, squeezing it lightly. "My boys back there are harmless. You seem to have roughed yourself up a bit." He tilts his head as he leans back and looks you up and down, still holding your hand. Oh how deeply thankful you were that he was blocking the headlights from illuminating your red face.

"Yeah- I'm fine though, really! I just, can't keep up with Riley if I tried." You laugh and tremble a little as the cold air catches up to you. He raises an eyebrow- and fuck it gets to you because it makes him smirk a little bit too.

"Well, no offense but you look like you're in no condition to walk home like that!" A woman's voice comes up from behind Price's. You squint at the light when she comes up, and you see a blonde woman about his age with smile lines and blue eyes that could knock you down to your knees yet again. "My name's Kate, don't let John here scare you, he's just an old man." They banter a bit as you stare into space, begging any ethreal being to show you a sign that this is real life.

'Fuck being bisexual, god hates me.' You curse to yourself as you smile shyly at her.

"We can give you a ride home if you'd want! I wouldn't feel right letting you have to get yourself home with blood down your legs." Price motions with his free hand at your torn fishnets, rocks littering the cuts on your leg.

"Oh- I don't want to impose or anything, and I'll have Riley!" You struggle to keep yourself still as the wind continually stings.

"Lass, you're shakin' like a leaf in this wind." The scottish man shakes his head in his helmet, leaning back against the flat of his bike.

"You ain't getting home with just a dog draggin' you forward." The gruff voice of the skull-head from beside him made you look away in embarassment. They were all right, you were blocks away from home, and you didn't have your phone on you either.

"Um.. If you're sure you don't mind... but what about Riley?"

"He can ride wi' me!" The scott excitedly patted the flat he was leaning on, shuffling a few top panels to show a compartment on the back of it that had a hooking mechanism for leashes. Assumedly he had dogs too, and how greatful you were for it.

You sigh in relief that you wont have to limp home in your misery, as strong as you are, the chunk of you lost twice to the blacktop actually hurt more than you'd ever want to admit.

Before you can take a step forward, you're lifted off your feet and holding the shoulders of Kate. She laughs as you gasp and sets you on the back of skull-head's bike so you can backpack him, right next to Riley in the odd formation their bikes created.

"I promise he's not as scary as he looks- right Simon?"

"I don't bite." He chuckles deeply and you tense against his back as he does so. "You might want to hold on tho', I'm not exactly the easiest ride." You blush, hard as he says it, and the group laughs loudly as they start their bikes.

"Oi, treat her nice Si." A soft voice jeered from the last bike to Kate's right. "Or else I'll have to take her off your hands."

"Nice try Gaz."

"Boys! Quit scarin' her." Price chuckles and lights a cigar as he revs his engine. "Or else she wont wanna see us again. Now where do you need us to take you, love?"

'Ah.' Was all that crossed your mind as you locked your arms around Simon's waist, and you all shot off down the street.

[tomssexdoll]

A Second Chance

PAIRINGS: Tom 2014 x Female reader

CONTENT: SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom is a gang member for your dads gang, he used to visit the house to help your dad, often running into you, the conversation only leading so far. One day, at one of your dads gang parties, Tom sees you for the first time in years, you looked so different, so beautiful and confident.

A/N: if you want to be tagged or i accidently missed your tag comment on my pinned masterlist <3 divider creds: @chaemingly

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), eating out, LOTS of teasing

Tom was a gang member under my dads gang, the blue bloods, he had talked me a few times when he'd come over to the house to help my dad, only very few polite words. My dads gang was very high profile and the most notorious in the country, Tom and the other gang members all contributed to maintaining that title.

One day, I was at one of my dads parties, he was celebrating a recent deal that went really well and he got more money than he asked for. It was the first time tom had seen me in 4 years, I was wearing a sexy red dress with black lace and black heels. I straightened my hair and had a simple yet sexy makeup look. I was walking in the party with my friends, laughing and trying to navigate the bar.

Toms eyes widened slightly as he saw me walk in, hardly recognising the gorgeous woman I'd become. He leaned against the wall, trying to act casual but internally cursing my fathers strict no touching rule for his daughter.

I finally made my way to the bar, ordering a vodka redbull on my dads tab, allowing my friends to all order something too. He watched from afar, admiring how confident and beautiful I was. The red dress I wore clung to my curves just right, and my heels made my legs look endless. He took a swig from his whiskey, trying to maintain his composure, "damn.." he mumbled under his breath.

He took another sip of his drink, adjusting the collar of his shirt, trying to remain professional under my fathers presence but my presence made it increasingly difficult. Despite knowing he shouldn't, he walks over to the bar, positioning himself near me.

I kept talking and laughing with my friends, enjoying the unlimited amount of drinks. It wasn't until my friends went off to dance that I noticed Tom, I turned around and looked up, his tall frame towering over me. He leaned against the bar and smirked, "quite the change since the last time I saw you.." he said, "I almost wouldn't have recognised you.." his eyes scanned my figure discreetly.

"Your father would kill me if he knew I was talking to you like this.." he chuckled, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone. My face lit up and I smiled brightly, "mhm, it's been quite a while, you've grown a lot since we last saw each other," I winked "and besides, i'm a grown woman now, he can't control who I speak to, I don't need to be chaperoned everywhere I go," I rolled my eyes playfully.

His smirk widened mischievously, enjoying my confident demeanour. "True..true..But he can still shoot the messenger.." his eyes locked with mine, "I think he'd prefer you rather than some random gangbanger.." I giggled. He raised an eyebrow, "is that so? And what makes you think I'm not a gangbanger," he took a step closer, maintaining eye contact. "You don't know what I do in my free time.." he smirked dangerously.

I rolled my eyes at his attempt to scare me, "you don't scare me Tom," I giggled, shaking my head, "I obviously know you are one but..at least you have better morals than most of the guys here.." His smirk turned into a chuckle, amused by my fearlessness. "Better morals? You make it sound like I'm some saint.." he took a sip of his drink.

"Well you are compared to most people," I smirked and ordered another vodka redbull. His gaze lingered on my lips as I took a sip of my drink. He reached out and gently grabbed my chin, catching me by surprise. He tilted my head up to fully look at him, "you know..I think you're pretty bold, talking to me like this.." he whispered. The attention he gave me made my stomach flutter, I had a crush on him for years and this was the first time ever he was paying attention to me like this.

My boldness was starting to crumble, my shyness creeping in. He noticed the change in my demeanour, he liked it, finding it cute. He knew this confident, bold look was just for show, wanting to impress him. He decides to take advantage of my shyness and pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my waist.

I felt my cheeks getting hotter and my eyes widening at his sudden move. He leaned in close, his hot breath against my ear as he whispered, "I think I like your bold side better..but this shy side is cute too.." his hand slowly slid down to give my bottom a gentle squeeze before pulling back with a smirk.

I tried to put on my bold act again but it failed miserably, causing me to stammer over my words, "Mhm? W-well she never left," he smirked, "and you're really bad at hiding it," he teased, "you're trying to act all tough, but you can't even look me in the eye without blushing.." he chuckled softly, his arm around my waist pulling me even closer.

I chuckled and smacked his arm playfully, hiding my face, "shut up.." he grabbed my hand, intertwining my fingers with his. "Or what? You going to beat me up?" his free hand traced circles on my lower back. He leaned in close, pressing a gentle kiss to my neck and whispering in my ear, "say..how about we go somewhere more private..hm?"

He guided me discreetly through the crowded party, searching for a quieter spot. Finally he found an empty bathroom, gently walking in with me and locking the door behind him. He pressed me against the bathroom counter, caging me in with his hands on either side of me.

He stared down at me, his eyes locked onto my lips as I bit my lower lip. He could feel the tension between us growing thicker. My chest was heaving slightly, he leaned in, giving me a chance to pull away. "Last change to act all tough.." he mumbled, his voice low and husky.

I grew some confidence and smashed my lips into his, desperately kissing him. He was taken aback by my sudden confidence but quickly returned a rough kiss, pressing his lips against mine firmly. His hands moved to my hips, pulling me flush against him as he deepened the kiss.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down my neck, sucking and biting gently. "Fuck.." he mumbled, moving his hands to the strap of my dress. He whispered against my neck, "this dress is dangerous.." tracing a finger along one strap. "One move and it could slip right off.." he smirked, knowing full well what he was doing. "Though I wouldn't mind if it did.." he whispered, moving his hand to the other strap. In one swift motion he dragged them down my shoulders, letting the whole dress fall down to my hips, exposing my barely there bra.

His eyes widened as he took in my nearly naked form, the black lacy bra doing nothing to hide my curves. He reached out and hooked his fingers in the waistband of my dress, lifting my hips with his strong arms and pulling it right off, throwing it across the room.

"Holy fuck.." he mumbled, his hands flying to my bra and practically ripping it off. He hungrily sucked and licked my tits, his hands roaming over my body. He groaned against my skin, his hands squeezing and caressing my bare breasts. He could feel himself grow hard in his pants as he continued to lavish attention on my chest.

Without warning, he got on his knees, grabbing my panties roughly and pulling them off. He spread my legs wide and shoved his face into my pussy. He used his fingers to spread my folds before running his tongue up my slit, my body slightly jolted at the action, making him smirk mischievously.

"You like that huh?" he lifted his head up, "mhmm.." I whined softly, embarrassed by how reactive I was to his actions. "Mmmh.." he chuckled softly, "well, I'm just getting started doll," and with that he buried his face into my pussy again, licking and sucking furiously.

He hooked his arms around my thighs to keep me in place as I moaned and squirmed, my hands desperately trying to find security. I held onto the edges of the countertop, moaning loudly as his tongue feverishly circled my clit.

His tongue continued to work me mercilessly, flicking my clit just the way he knew I'd like it. The sound of my moans only drove him on more, his hands gripping my thighs tighter, his fingernails digging into me, "fuck..you taste amazing baby.." he grumbled, moving his tongue to my hole and pushing it deep inside, his nose rubbing against my clit to heighten the pleasure.

The sounds of me getting wetter and wetter made him impossibly hard. He lapped at my core, wanting to make me cum so hard, like I've never before. He could feel me getting closer, my thighs trembling against his face. "Tom!" I yelped, my hands sliding down and gripping onto his hair tightly, shoving his face into my pussy more.

His face was completely buried in my folds now, his nose and mouth working in tandem to bring me to the brink. He can feel my nails digging into his scalp, pulling his hair tighter. It did hurt but it only spurred him on, he doubled his efforts, hearing me scream in pleasure as my orgasm was quickly approaching.

His intensifying movements drove me crazy, his tongue moved to my clit again and his fingers slid up, he shoved 2 fingers inside my dripping hole and fingered me roughly. "That's it baby, come for me!" he grunted, his voice muffled against my pussy. His hands gripped my hips tightly, holding me still as he brought me closer and closer to my climax.

I screamed out in intense pleasure, my orgasm crashing down. A small stream of clear liquid coming out of me. He lapped up every drop of my release, not wasting a drop. His chest heaved as he stood up, his eyes dark with desire as he shakily undid his belt, "I need to be inside you now.." he mumbled, capturing my lips in a deep kiss, letting me taste myself on his lips.

My hands moved to help him, he slid his belt off and I dragged his pants down. His thick cock pressed against his boxers desperately, a wet patch of pre cum stained on the material. His breath hitched against my lips, he pulled away to shove his boxers down, letting them pool at his feet just like his pants.

His hand wrapped around his hard length, pumping it a few times as he stared at me with heavy lidded eyes. "You're so beautiful...look at what you do to me.." he motioned to his throbbing cock, the tip leaking more precum.

He positioned himself between my spread legs, his throbbing cock pressing against my still sensitive entrance. "Should I fuck you hard, right here on this counter..?" he whispered, his lips tracing along my ear. I nodded and looked up at him, he smirked darkly and stepped closer, grabbing my thighs tightly.

He alinged himself with my entrance, slamming into me hard, filling me completely. I was taken aback, gasping and holding onto him. He chuckled, "too much for you? he pouted dramatically, sarcastically cooing.

I smirked at his teasing, "shut up and fuck me.." I spat out. He shook his head and chuckled, his hips starting to move in a fast punishing rhythm. "Fuck..your tight pussy feels so good around my cock.." he groaned, his fingers digging into my flesh.

I moaned loudly, my chest heaving and my tits bouncing wildly as his pace quickened. Each thrust brought us brought me closer to another orgasm. One hand moved up to catch one of my bouncing breasts, squeezing it roughly while the other hand held my hip steady, "you like that? want me to fuck you even faster?" he panted against my neck, his voice coarse.

"Fuck yes!" I whined, "harder!" he smirked, instantly obliging. He increased his pace once again until he was practically jackhammering into me. He wrapped his arms around my legs, pulling them up higher and onto his shoulders as he continued to pound into me mercilessly. The counter creaked beneath me, the sound mixing with my loud moans and his low grunts.

"You're so loud.." he chuckled, placing rough kisses on my neck, sucking on the skin to leave dark purple hickeys wherever he went. "You like that, hm? You like how my cock slams into you like that..how good it makes you feel..?" he whispered, nibbling softly on my earlobe, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

I let out a loud moan as my answer, nodding my head rapidly. His face contorted in pleasure, his eyes locking onto my as he picks up the pace even more. The sound of his balls slapping against me filled the room, his voice dripping with dominance, "good girl..feel all of me.." he groaned, reaching in between my legs and rapidly rubbing my clit, wanting my orgasm to be big and powerful.

My back was pushing back against the mirror, hitting it roughly from his brutal thrusts. I felt a knot form in my stomach, a signal to my approaching orgasm. "Mmmh! 'M close...don't stop!" I yelped, rolling my eyes back from the intense pleasure.

His movements become almost relentless, hitting that sweet spot deep inside me over and over again, driving me crazy. With one last flick of my sensitive clit and hard thrust my orgasm came crashing down, I practically screamed and held onto the counter tightly, the pleasure coming in furious waves.

He groaned, rolling his eyes back as my orgasm rippled around him, he fucked me through my climax, drawing it out until I was trembling. "That's it..take my cock..ohhh fuck.." he grunted. With a final thrust he buried himself to the hilt and found his own release inside me. He let out one last low, guttural groan, his body shuddering.

After a few moments he slowly lowered my legs and gently pulled out of me, helping me down from the counter. I was absolutely spent, my chest heaving as I tried to calm down from my earthshattering orgasm. He wrapped an arm around my waist to support me, noticing how wobbly I was, "you okay baby?" he chuckled softly, kissing my forehead.

I nodded softly and buried my face into his chest, too tired to even respond. He smiled and grabbed my clothes, setting me back on the counter to help me get dressed. "Don't tell anyone this happened sweetheart, I wanna make it out alive so I can see you again," he smirked, I rolled my eyes playfully, "fine, fine."

tags: @ballhair @bills-wife-1 @bkaulitzlover

tags: @ella1289 @billsdolliest @tomscumdoll

tags: @tomsfuckdoll @tomkslut @miyukafujii

tags: @itsangelll

[fallinghunhan]

bottom tommy bottom tommy bottom tommy

unapologetically masculine blue collar man being gay, in touch with his emotions AND not ashamed to bottom let's go gang we need this

[powdermelonkeg]

You know what? I'm gonna make a Minecraft movie

This is a plot I banged out over the course of like three hours at work so bear with me.

Movie starts. Main Guy just got fired from his job or something. He goes home to his house, greets his dog, agonizes over how he's going to pay for said dog with this development. Dog comes up wanting to play fetch, has a mcguffin in its mouth. Main Guy takes it and fiddles with it that night.

Mcguffin activates.

Guy winds up in Minecraft world. Spends a day freaking out about everything. Finds a dirt house someone else made and spends the night there to escape the monsters.

There's a map there. Takes that to a village

Meets Alex. She doesn't speak.

Alex is in the middle of saving a village from an Illager raid. Main Guy helps.

It takes a turn into a rescue mission for captured Villagers. The Illagers are hunting for a Trial Chamber with a legendary weapon (the mace).

After that arc is complete, Main Guy has an Allay as a pet and a new friend in a Villager he saved. Gang's all there, all adventures from here on out will be with MG, Alex, Villager, and Allay.

They go to Alex's home base. It's neat, but it's very clear she's not the only one that's lived there.

MG manages to convey to Alex that he needs a way home. And she's got the Ender Dragon egg, but doesn't have the rest of the equipment to get to the End and make the portal home.

Trip into the Deep Dark, ancient city, Warden fight while getting diamonds.

Villager takes the diamonds and makes a pickaxe for them.

They get obsidian and make a Nether Portal. Trip to the Nether to find a fortress and get blaze rods and ender pearls.

While they're in the Nether, they come across the Wither Briar. It's a new biome that's spreading, wither roses everywhere, with a Wither at the center.

They get the supplies they need, but the Wither catches them and attacks. They barely make it out alive; Villager gets zombified.

Rush to a witch to get Villager healed.

It gets revealed that Alex and her friends once took on the Wither, but it turned out too destructive and they lost the battle and several friends. They split up then. The Wither's been terrorizing the local Piglins and spreading the zombie infection ever since.

MG gets up, determined, gearing up and reentering the Nether. Epic battle against the Wither. The Wither Briar dies, the Piglins rejoice.

MG, Alex, and Villager start gearing up to find the Stronghold, with help from the village, Piglins, witch, etc. MG gets a unique armor trim that's not in the game.

Melancholy travel. Alex and Villager are gonna miss MG a LOT, and he's considering whether or not he wants to leave.

Stronghold leads to the End, End City fight for an Elytra.

Final fight with the Ender Dragon, hesitation, then final goodbyes. The group all jumps into the portal together.

MG winds up back home in his bed, in the real world, but he still has his gear and the sword he used to slay the Ender Dragon with.

He gets the mcguffin that sent him to Minecraft in the first place and is about to destroy it. He second-guesses it. Epic montage of him grabbing the things he needs to go.

He puts on a blue shirt and dark jeans. He packs his bag with apples, a slice of cake, and a map. He grabs his dog, a fluffy gray one with a red collar, then he activates the mcguffin again.

End poem plays, followed by the credits rolling.

Post-credits at the end with Minecraft music playing, Steve rolls up to Alex's house as she and Villager are building a beacon out of the Nether Star the Wither dropped. He helps them finish it, the beacon shoots into the sky, then they go into her house.

Alex looks at the map hopefully, waiting for her friends as the sun goes down, but all it shows is hers and Steve's icons on it…then someone else's shows up, just barely at the border. It's one of the other "default" players.

End of movie.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Grand Line Crew Modern Au Gang!

i hope yall enjoy, this took a while to get all together, here

ASL post

East Blue Crew post

Friends we made along the way 1 post

Friends we made along the way 2 post

i dont have many additional headcanons for this lot, but i did write a short story with them :) enjoy

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

That’s just gonna have to be there 👆 tumblr likes to glitch out my posts.

Dont give chopper caffeine. He’ll either have a heart attack or operate on 5x speed, its a gamble every time.

robin and franky love watching home improvement shows, house hunters, how its made, myth busters, and other technical shows together.

When Luffy shows robin memes on his phone, she takes out her reading glasses and holds the phone like a mom does. Ya know that squint. You know.

Jinbei used to be a trucker and had a convoy with s bunch of his truckin’ buddies. They had matching leather jackets with “the sun truckers” embroidered on the back

Franky has a wig closet. It is vast. If you went in there you'd think you were in Narnia or something

Chopper is BEYOND CONVINCED that Sabo is a vampire.

One day, sabo volunteered as an assistant in a medical class chopper was taking. He was acting as chopper’s patient as he was learning the patient procedures of a checkup.

It was all going fine, chopper got all the patient identification out of the way and next was to acquire blood pressure, breath count, and heart rate. But the stethoscope and pressure monitor wasn’t working, and it make it seem like Sabo,,, didnt have a pumping heart,, or blood,,, or really breathed at all(he doesnt take very visible breaths).

Chopper was stricken with fear at this and assumed the absolute worse as he looked in horror at Sabo’s naturally pale complexion and long canine teeth. Chopper simply jotted down the average count of each recording instead of getting new equipment, and tried not to think about it, but

“huh, all of those numbers are usually lower than that. Maybe all that Special Concoction™ i drink is finally catching up to my heart rate.”

“how much have you.. drunk?”

“like for today? Or since I woke up.”

Chopper is fucking horrified. Sabo woke up to being a vampire and drinks blood as a special concoction. He cannot believe this.

”Never mind, I don't need to know, its all normal, you're normal.”

“Wow… that's the first time a medical practitioner has called me normal. My brothers are gonna get a real kick outta this.”

CHOPPER IS FUCKING HORRIFIED. HE HAS BRETHEREN??? Chopper just keeps his head down and finishes up the check up practice as Sabo remarks he has another class in the blood bank, which was lemon in the paper cut for chopper.

For a month or so after that day, Chopper didn’t see Sabo at all, and he forgot about his fear for a little while. However one night as chopper was hanging with Luffy and a few others in the straw hat friend group, there was a knock at the door. Chopper happily said “I’ll get it~” as the rest of the group continued in conversation.

Chopper skips over to the door and when he opens it, he sees the figure of Sabo standing in front of him. Tall and opposing, smiling a big toothy grin with bright blue eyes shining from the overhead lighting. He’s wearing a long trench coat with the collar popped and an ascot was wrapped around his neck.

What chopper was seeing before him.

Was the vampire.

He let out a scream right out of a horror film and promptly fainted.

A minute or two later, he awoke laying on the couch, feet elevated and vest unbuttoned, to his friends looking at him from the foot of the couch.

He goes to stand up, but a strong gloved hand stops his movement and guides him back down

“Don't get up too quickly, little man.”

Chopper looked next to him and saw The Vampire. What was he doing in his house?!?!?

“Are you alright, bud? You opened the door for me, screamed in my face, and then passed out.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Chopper said with the highest voice-crack to word ratio in his entire life.

“Right. Well again, dont get up too quickly, if you need water or anything let your friends know. I just came here to pick up Luffy cuz some family stuff came up. Have a good night!”

“…you too, and thanks for taking care of me…”

“No prob!”

“One last question?” Inquired chopper.

“What's up?”

“Did someone invite you in?”

the end

PS: Sabo's "special concoction" consists of Red Bull and Espresso. He hasn't slept in 72 hours. This will have lasting effects on his health.

thats all for now! thanks for reading~

[allzelemonz]

Boys’ Night: The Van der Linde Boys X Male Reader

Dutch Van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, Sean MacGuire, Kieran Duffy, Javier Esquella

Fictober Prompt: Day 31, Orgy Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Orgy, threesomes, kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, oral sex, blow jobs, rough sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Sean’s drunken mind, marking, viagra-esc tonics, almost everyone is passed around to everyone else, Reader takes both top and bottom roles Summary: Sean has an idea that leads most of the boys in the gang to a damn fun time.

Sean, in his mildly drunken wisdom, decided that a boys’ night needs more than just poker, five finger filet, and songs. With most of the older folks and women out of camp for a special con, Sean knows his only hindrance might be Dutch. So he enlists the best sycophant he’s ever met.

“Can’t tell me it won’t be fun.” Sean grins. “All a’ us-“

“I ain’t gonna be a part a’ some invert orgy.” Micah mutters.

Sean leans closer. “Oh, really? Even if a certain cowpoke’s involved?”

Micah glares up at Sean from his seat by the scout fire, then follows the Irishman’s eyes to the filet table. There you stand, arms crossed as you watch Morgan and Marston play. And Micah might be able to turn it down, let his senses say no again, but then Dutch leans a little closer and whispers something in your ear. Micah’s head swims with lewd images of the two men he finds himself pining for in his alone time despite his best efforts.

“Fine.” He snaps, holstering his gun and glaring at Sean. “But ain’t no one ta know ‘bout this, understand that?”

Sean grins with a little chuckle. “Ya mean ‘side from the boys fuckin’ ya?”

Micah’s fists clench at his sides, but he stops himself from punching Sean. He’s in too deep at this point, half hard in his pants and more frustrated than he’s ever been. “Shut yer damn mouth, cowboy, ‘for I decide ta leave ya with blue balls.”

Sean puts his hands up, giggling to himself. “Got it, big man.”

Micah stomps off and Sean watches him carefully. The blond makes his way over to Dutch, coaxing him away from the table and back to the fire. This might be easier than he thought.

Dutch is skeptical at first, concerned about how the gang might take such a proposition. But with Micah’s easy words, Sean watches the gang leader become so much more comfortable with the idea of the gang doing this for bonding and morale.

And the word spreads fast.

Folks are a little nervous at first, shuffling and unsure. Plenty of pining goes around camp on the average day, but being given the green light is a little daunting. So, Dutch being Dutch, he makes the first move. Shedding the hat from the blond’s head, Dutch pulls Micah into a kiss by the collar of his shirt. Most of the gang watches as he walks Micah back into the filet table and lets his hands wander. Sean gets the next burst of confidence, practically lunging to kiss Lenny. John bursts out laughing when they fall onto the ground together, but he’s silenced quickly by Javier. Then Bill sheepishly cups Kieran’s face before the former O’Driscoll puts his arms over Bill’s shoulders and kisses him as if he’s been waiting to for years. It’s only yourself, Charles, and Arthur left standing in the midst of the mess, looking around at the others of the gang in various states of intimacy and undress.

Arthur clears his throat, the red of his face only getting worse as he glances around. “Well… suppose…”

You look over at him, those pretty eyes staring back at you. “You…uh, you wanna…?”

There’s a weight on your shoulder and you turn to see Charles, his other hand held out towards Arthur. The workhorse dips his head, his hat hiding his face as he steps forward and takes Charles’s hand.

“We could go somewhere a little private.” Charles suggests, nodding towards Arthur’s tent.

The thought is comforting, making your pounding heart calm a bit. Most others have simply started at their partners where they happened to fall. Only Bill and Kieran have moved behind the chuck wagon. Sean nearly has Lenny out of his pants on the ground, Javier is shamelessly grinding into John against the tree, Dutch has Micah surprisingly whimpering at the attention he gets, Charles simply leads you and a bashful Arthur away from the others.

Arthur sits on his cot, rubbing a hand down his face as he takes a breath. You don’t blame him given the circumstances.

“We don’t have to.” Charles says, sitting next to him with a kind hand on his shoulder. “Just because Dutch said it would be a good idea, doesn’t make it true.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No… I been…” He sighs. “Been wantin’ somethin; fer a while.” His hand reaches up to hold Charles’s on his shoulder, his eyes finding yours as they scrunch from a smile. “Guess I got a dirty mind.”

You chuckle lightly at the joke, happily taking Charles’s hand again as he pulls you into his lap. Charles kisses you softly, one of his hands on your waist. You gasp, pulling back slightly, when he starts to rut against you with a half-hard dick. Arthur has moved behind Charles, kissing at his neck while his hands lift up his shirt. Charles’s chest is broad and built, firm to the touch when you rest your hands on him. You watch Arthur’s hand move, twisting into your shirt to pull you forward. You’re pressed flush against Charles as Arthur kisses you over the other man’s shoulder. It’s Charles’s turn to give neck kisses now, his hands firmly holding your hips so you grind down into him.

“I want ya.” Arthur mutters against your lips. “Ya wanna fuck me, partner?”

You nod, kissing him again.

“What do you want from me?” Charles asks, his hand tilting Arthurs head so they can look at each other over his shoulder.

Arthur’s breath hitches as he looks at the man. “I… I wanna suck ya off, Charles.”

Charles smiles and that in itself is a slight. “Of course you do.”

The three of you move, hands guiding and wandering as clothes are shed. In the distance, Sean can be heard begging and groaning, there’s some curse shouted in Spanish, and the camp echos with skin slapping skin and the slurping, popping, and smacking of spit. It’s all overwhelming and you try to focus on what’s in front of you.

Arthur’s on his back, Charles nearly sitting on his chest as his dick is sucked. You’ve already spread Arthur’s legs, the tube of gun oil feeling heavy in your hand. You open it quickly, spilling half of it before getting your fingers covered and entering Arthur. In front of you, Charles throws his head back with a deep groan as his hips begin to stutter and fuck into Arthur’s mouth. You can’t help your free hand pumping yourself as you watch, your other scissoring Arthur open. It’s premature, you know it is, but you can’t take it anymore. You should stretch him more, but your dick aches in your hand and you retract your hands to grip Arthur’s hips instead.

You press into him and hear a muffled moan as Charles shivers from the vibrations it brings. Both of you still, giving Arthur time. You watch his hand grip at Charles’s hip, pulling him forward. Charles sits up, propping himself on the box behind Arthur’s cot so he can get the proper angle to fuck down into Arthur’s mouth. You start your pace, rough and fast like Charles. Arthur’s legs shake as he wraps them around your waist, his hand squeezing at Charles’s ass. You wish you could see their faces, but you can imagine. Charles’s is likely twisted in pleasure and concentration, Arthur’s might be slobbery and tear stained.

It’s Arthur that comes first, his dick untouched as it releases a flood of cum onto his stomach, a few spurts hitting Charles’s ass. Arthur’s body goes still as he whines, being used as a set of holes by now. Charles is next and you watch the bounce of his ass lose its nice rhythm as he shoots his release down Arthur’s throat. Charles seems to bury himself deep and Arthur grips his hips as he swallows what he’s given. You double your efforts, wanting to fill Arthur from both ends. You gaze falls downwards to watch yourself fuck into Arthur’s tight hole. Charles catches you off guard, tilting your head up for a kiss as he straddles Arthur’s stomach. His hand reaches down, passing your furious thrusting to fondle at your balls as they bounce off of Arthur. The heat builds fast and you release just as Charles bites at your lip.

When you let go of Arthur’s hips, he falls back down to his cot completely. Charles continues to kiss you as you pull out, smiling into it. You can hear Arthur’s labored breaths beneath you and you’re so in your own head that you don’t register the footsteps.

“Mind if I try somethin’, fellas?”

You turn from Charles to see Micah leaning against Arthur’s shaving stand. He only has his red shirt on, half buttoned, and a smirk rests on his face. Charles’s hand has yet to leave your balls and you feel him squeezing slightly as his other turns your head back to him for another kiss, silently telling you to ignore Micah.

“Aw, come on, Smith.” Micah drawls. “Lemme have a turn.”

Charles pulls back, his lips wetted and dark from all the kissing. “A turn?”

You hear Micah take a step forward and Charles moves fast. He leaves you and you nearly fall onto Arthur, only just catching yourself before collision. You look over your shoulder to watch Charles push Micah down to bend over Arthur’s weapon’s chest. A new pool of heat starts when Charles sucks on his fingers before shoving them into Micah, eliciting a moan from the older man.

“Shit…” Arthur mutters under you.

You turn to look down at him, chuckling. “Don’t think it’s what he had in mind.”

Arthur smirks. “Yeah, I doubt it.”

His hand finds the back of your neck and pulls you down for a kiss. Micah’s whimpers and curses fill the tent and you feel yourself getting hard again. Arthur grunts against you, pressing up until he brushes his dick to yours.

“‘m gettin’ too old fer this.” He mutters, blushing at his still soft dick.

Behind you, Micah gasps and you look back to watch him bury his face in his arm as Charles enters him roughly. Charles thrusts like a beast, fucking every last pathetic noise he can out of Micah. Kind of serves him right.

“C-Charlie…” Micah gasps, his voice light and breathless. “Ah! Fuck…”

Arthur hisses, his hand wrapping around his dick and trying to get himself going again. You trail your hand down, helping him stroke himself, but to no avail. After a few seconds a bottle lands beside Arthur on the cot, a tonic bottle. You look up as Arthur cranes his neck in the same direction. Standing to the side is Bill, a timid looking Kieran right behind him. Both of them are bare besides a blanket draped over Kieran’s shoulders.

“It helps.” Bill mutters, his eyes trailing over to watch Charles and Micah for a moment. “Works fer whiskey dick at least.”

Arthur looks the other outlaw up and down strangely. “Thanks.”

Bill clears his throat. “Ya wanna trade, Morgan?”

You look down at Arthur who glances between you and Kieran. He catches your nod before looking at Bill. “Sure.”

Kieran steps forward, a sheepish grin on his face. You give Arthur a final kiss before standing. As you pass him, you chance giving Kieran a kiss and he accepts it, melting into you for the few seconds it lasts. When you pull away and turn to Bill, the large man has taken himself in his hand at the sight. Your eyes catch on that motion, swallowing thickly at the size, nearly as big as Charles. You find the sense to step closer to Bill and kiss him. Behind you, Kieran squeaks from something and Arthur mumbles an apology. Bill’s hands find your hips, pulling you against him well enough to smush your dicks together between your stomachs.

Charles practically growls behind you and you hear Micah gasp again. “How’s that for a darkie, Micah?”

There’s a thud and you imagine Charles let Micah go or maybe even threw him on the ground. A few beats later, Sean calls out to Charles with a drunken shake to his voice. Bill pulls you with him, keeping his lips busy on your neck until he turns you around to bend you over Staruss’s little table. Bill fumbles, finding a tonic on the ground and pouring it over his hand before he pushes his fingers inside. You spread your legs for him, raising your ass a bit now that you’ve lost whatever care for shame you had at the start of all of this.

“Gentlemen.” Dutch greets, settling himself against the tree behind the two of you. “Don’t mind me.”

Bill’s finger’s stall for a moment, likely nervous about fucking someone in front of his boss, but he continues after a few seconds. You try not to think about Dutch watching you, feeling that same set of performance nerves. Bill fumbles more as he moves, spreading your ass cheeks apart with one hand as he guides himself inside. Both of you groan as he enters and pushes himself in fully. Bill leans forward, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he starts thrusting. You fix your feet steady on the ground when the table under you shakes from the combined weight. Bill’s thrusts are moderate and steady, hitting deep and brushing heavenly every time.

There’s a small groan, sounding like Kieran, that makes you shiver when you think about what Arthur is doing to him. A few more thrusts from Bill makes you grip the table tighter as your legs feel shaky. Then there’s a shout of Spanish with Charles’s name mixed in. Bill’s hands wander up your body a bit, caressing your sides as he keeps up his steady fucking. A low groan reminds you that Dutch is watching and you have half a mind to look back at him, but Bill picks up his speed and you bury your face into your arm instead. Bill’s climax pumps you full, the trickling feeling distinct as his dick already starts to push the excess out with a few final thrusts.

Only a moment after Bill has stepped back there are hands on your hips. Sean pulls you to him, falling to his knees in front of you and taking you in his mouth too fast for you to think. Your hands go to his soft hair and he relents immediately, letting you fuck his mouth without question.

“Arthur!” Kieran cries somewhere in the background.

Behind you, hands grip your hips as kisses are pressed to your neck. The tickle of a mustache tells you it’s likely Javier, but you’re too occupied with fucking Sean’s willing mouth to think further. You release for the second time, letting Sean take everything you have. In the midst of your high, Javier presses inside of you and starts fucking without inhabition. His hands on your waist hold you still, his lips beginning to suck in a mark to your neck. Sean stands, grinning at you before he runs over to Arthur and all but jumps on the older man’s dick. Javier wraps his arms around you, filling your ears with mumbled Spanish that is slurred by ecstasy.

Your eyes move around camp, finding several things to admire. Bill has Micah in his lap, stroking him with one hand and fingering him with another. John and Lenny each have each other in hand as they kiss, Charles watching them from the campfire. Dutch has Kieran on the ground, fucking him roughly as he mutters about O’Driscolls but Kieran moans all the same. Arthur stares from afar, Sean bouncing on his dick as he watches the sight of Javier finally burying himself deep and mixing his cum deep inside of you with Bill’s.

“You’re so warm, cariño.” Javier mutters in your ear before he chuckles. “Who’re you seeing next?”

“Not sure.” You take a few breaths. “Haven’t seen half of them yet.”

Javier pulls himself out, causing the mixed cum to leak out. “John’s a good hole, dirty mouth too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You turn in time for Javier to kiss you before he heads over to Arthur, teasing words spilling out as he climbs onto the older man’s lap to replace a spent Sean. When you turn back, Dutch is a few feet away. He beckons, gesturing to the ground and some part of wanting to please your boss makes you sink to your knees without question. Dutch guides his dick to your lips and, once again, you don’t hesitate. You only get a few bobs in before Dutch clutches at your head, beginning to use you without care.

“Shit!” Bill yells, not sounding pleased. “Wagons!”

Dutch pulls you off and you turn your head to peer through the trees. Glimpses of horses, a few colorful dresses… shit indeed. Everyone scrambles, hiding in tents, pulling clothes back on, trying to clean up cum from various surfaces. You all but fall into your tent, rummaging for at least a union suit or some kind of underwear. Pants, you find pants and pull them on.

“Dutch…” Hosea calls. “What’s gone on here?”

From your tent you can see Bill hiding behind a tree, not a thing covering him. Dutch comes out of his tent, somehow fully dressed, and greets Hosea as if he hasn’t fucked half of his men in the last hour. Miss Grimshaw looks around, sniffing with a crease in her brow for a moment. She’s distracted by Tilly asking a question and you take the opportunity to grab the union suit you know to be Bill’s on the ground in front of you before running over to him in the trees.

“Owe ya.” He mutters, pulling on the covering.

You nod, turning to leave, but Bill catches your arm and pulls you closer to kiss your cheek. You give him a smile before circling around the trees, acting like you’d gone out to piss. Passing Lenny and Sean hiding out by the lake with a single fishing pole as an excuse, you sneak as best you can to Arthur’s tent. As if expecting you, a half dressed Arthur with a bulge in his pants, hands you the clothes you’d shed earlier. You dress the rest of the way next to the munitions, eyes checking for onlookers on occasion.

The camp settles, the secret kept. Everything is well and most of the boys have elected not to bring it up, others whisper and snicker about it. It’s dark when Micah sits next to you and you look at him, finding flushed cheeks for only a moment before he kisses you. It’s surprisingly soft despite the chapped and bruised lips. He pulls back, glancing to see if anyone saw before looking back at you with a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Didn’t get the chance, cowpoke.”

[usagikookiejams]

HAVING A CUTE DATE WITH THEM

Shiba Taiju, Terano South, Ryuguji Ken

A/N: Sorry guys for not updating for long, I wasn't in the mood to write and also due to busy schedule

Shiba Taiju

"Ugh, why do I even agreed to this?," you heard a mumble from behind. You turned around while spotting a large smile on your face, "Come on babe! It's not even that bad, right? I mean.. look at all those cute cats, who could resist them?!." Taiju rolled his eyes on you, sighing, "This does not fit me baby. What if my gang members see me like this?." You just ignored him, knowing that he will follow you nonetheless. Both of you got into the Cat Café; it was obvious who wanna be here and who DOES NOT. Bleh, whatever, he will get use to it. After settling down in one of the tables, you waited patiently for the waiter to get your order. "Babe, look at Bobby. He wants to be pet by you," you alerted Taiju. "Huh? Bobby who?," Taiju looked confused. "Duh? The cat by your lap? Look there babe, he wants you to pet him," you responsed while patting the cat on your lap that was wearing a collar with 'Miku' on it. Taiju looked over at Bobby, seeing those big blue eyes staring at him cutely. The staring contest continued for a few seconds until Taiju heard you laughing. "Hahahaha look at the both of you! So hilarious!," you stated while bringing Miku near your face to kiss her nose. You looked very adorable doing that, Taiju could feel his heart beating fast as if it was your first met again. He sighed, admitting to himself that this indeed was not a bad idea. Mentally noting that he will bring you here again next time <3

Terano South

Well, it was his idea to go to a theme park. Cuz he imagined himself enjoying numerous thrill rides here with you. But never, I mean NEVER has it occured once in his mind that he will be waiting in line for this ride instead. "Omggg! I have not go on merry-go-round for years! Can't wait for our turn babe!," you jumped in your spot. Sigh... yes merry-go-round. Who the hell go on those besides kids? Plus, he is too tall to go there, people will be looking at him weirdly. "Baby, I think I might have to pass on this. Why don't you go while I take a lot of pics of you from here, hmm?," he suggested. "Oh no need babe! I just wanna enjoy this together with you. Pleaseeee?," you looked at him with puppy-eyes. He sighed again, knowing that you are too cute to resist. Welp, it's your and South's turn now, so no turning back. You giddily chose the one that you want to ride, while South just chose whichever closer to you. After a few seconds, the merry-go-round song started playing, indicating that the ride was about to start. South couldn't help but having a very bored expression on his face, knowing this ride didn't give him even an ounce of excitement. That is until he looked ahead at you seeing how you were directing the camera towards him while smiling, "Hye babe! This is fun, right?", you asked him. South observed how you were looking very happy, and also squealed at the ride sudden movement sometime... he doesn't have the heart to deny your question. You just looked too cute like this, realizing this free-spirit personality also was one of the reasons he fell in love with you. South could feel himself started to enjoy the ride too, and he replied yes to your question. After the ride end, you couldn't believe that South pulled you into the line again, perhaps like 2 or 3 times more until you have to drag him from there. Lol!

Ryuguji Ken (Draken)

In both of you guys' relationship, you both normally have mutual understanding on dating. I mean, it was not hard to decide on dating activity or location. However, this... this one is new. Well, you came across an advertisment on pottery. So you decided to give it a try, thinking that the idea seems interesting. That is how you and Draken ended up attending this class, on Saturday morning. "Hwaaa. Baby is this a good idea?," you heard Draken asking you while yawning. "Well, I hope it is. But it's okay babe, we just a few minutes in, so it might be interesting later on," you felt sorry having to wake Draken early for this class. You had to admit that a few minutes in, it was boring. I mean, all you guys had done by now was just the theory class on what is the good clay to use and how to use the machine. After some more dreading minutes of the boring lecture, you guys finally started on the actual pottery designing alongside other participants. Draken just randomly making a design, a simple cup. You came to observe his cup and praised him on how good it looked. That is until you came out with an idea to kinda like 'destroy' it. "Hey baby! What are you doing?," Draken hold your hand firmly. "Hahahaha sorry babe! I just thought it would be better if we write our initial there," you pointed out at the cup. Draken observed them, thinking that hey it doesn't look that bad, it actually looked better like that. He agreed that it looks good, and you couldn't help but feel proud at the idea. That is until you saw Draken ran towards your table to mess up your cup too. "Heyyy!!," you ran after him. The other participants just looked at the both of you in awed, hearing the boisterous laugh at how you both were teasing one another. Draken realized how this simple activity means a lot to him, if he could see you keep on smiling like that <3

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

here’s my RDR2 oc, his name is Yrjö Mäkitalo and he is a Finnish man who came to America to make money and send it back to Finland where he can support his wife and sick son. He also is sexy and has PTSD, what more could someone want?

more info under cut:

Name: Yrjö Mäkitalo (few call him by his Finnish name since it’s hard to pronounce / people butcher his name. He is given nicknames by everyone against his will. He hates it but doesn’t mention it because it just makes social interactions in the early days easier.)

gender: cis male, he/him

Nationality: Finnish Immigrant. Has been in American for at least 5 years.

Age: late 30’s, early 40’s

Job: Deputy of Saint Denis police. Used to have a job in Finland also as an officer, thought it was more so behind a desk. He lost his previous job from taking bribes. ((He is still a corrupt officer and he knows that)).

Personality: quiet, impassive, secretive, and intimidating under the right lights. This is not what he is known as to his family in Finland. They know him as a loving husband, a protective father, a hard working officer who did what was right. The downfall of his life which lead to immigrating to America took a lot out of him. He doesn’t talk a lot about his personal life for fear people will discover a more painful way to hurt him than merely killing him.

Misc:

- his wife used to braid his hair. His son gave him the blue and white beads in his hair. He braids his hair himself now.

- when both parents were very young, they had a daughter. She was little when she got caught in a house break in. It was dark and Yrjö shot her while trying to get the intruders. He still lives thinking about that mistake and now he hesitates before taking shots in the dark, or sometimes he just irrationally fears someone unexpected will get hurt when he shoots.

- his son was born a couple years after his daughter died. His grief made him extra protective and paranoid about his son dying. His son was sick when he left for America. Yrjö sometimes wonders how his boy is doing, if he is still staying in bed with lethargy and sickness. He sends letters and money to his family in Finland. He gets letters back sometimes, all in Finnish.

- he has a bullet scar on his left clavicle from when he hesitated to shoot a criminal because he looked like what Yrjö imagined his son would look when older. The bullet could have got him in the heart but it missed and injured his collar bone, putting him out of commission while his arm healed. That medical bill and temporary lack of wage was a major impact on him being able to provide for his family. It made him reflect how he had to be less reckless with his life.

- sleeping is hard for him. He thinks a lot about why he is here, whats the point of being in America if he dislikes it here and he can never make enough money go send back *and* ship back to Finland. He lives in Rhodes, he doesn’t like it much but it beats the city and it’s cheaper.

- his biggest irrational fear is that someone will know cutting his braid and stealing his beads would hurt him more than a stab to his heart.

- he got into some business with loan sharks in the first years he was in America in the west. He couldn’t convince people to give him a high rank job, even with his years of experience, and so he was a low ranking police goon. To make ends meet he went to organized gangs loaners who’d happily put him in debt, knowing he had no friends or family in America to help him escape. The loan sharks threaten to find a way to get to his family if he doesn’t repay them.

- he knows Finnish, some Swedish, and is fluent enough in English to work and live. His accent is present because he never tried very hard to integrate into American culture. If possible, he’d rather speak Finnish (or Swedish).