#THEY LOOK SO GOOD SQUEE

[nicky-jr]

samples are here :3

[junewild]

Watching Sam & Brennan talk about the beauty of frivolity, of adults playing silly games just as seriously as they fight to survive, and... yeah. There are some things that keep us alive, and there are some things that make life worth living, and I think games are one of those things that fall into both categories. Games make our lives better and they make us better at being alive. I think that's pretty cool.

[naoreco]

Has novody posted alm and his dogs yet

[blubunz]

DEEP INSIDE

— sub! old! leon s. kennedy x f! reader

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: grinding, thigh riding, riding, whimpering, hand job, overstimulation, handcuffed... bondage? dacryphilia, tits sucking.

A/N: I hate it when I have to feed myself,, I need to know if there's any old! sub! Leon fic out there, give...give... also I'll write for RE2 Leon soon just don't know when but I will. For now, I hope u guys enjoy old! sub! Leon.

You can see through him, Leon's not that good at hiding himself. Through that frown and that agitated look, you know how expressive he actually is. Face full of sorrow after hearing every bad news, eyes showing concern when someone gets hurt, he tries to hide, but you can see it.

Most people show indifference towards Leon, he hardly has a stable live life, and as he grows older, his yearning for love growing stronger despite his tongue speaking the opposite.

You step into his life and get him to follow you like a dog. Despite his intimidating look, you can see a flicker of vulnerability under those eyes. His younger self never dies, just hidden under the rough layers of what this world had done to him.

You reach out and manage to see that side of him, giving him gentle kisses and kind acts, you look so sincere, so full of affection when he's with you. Leon goes speechless sometimes, acting like a shy puppy when you say something nice about him, he tries to brush it off with a sarcastic remark or some bad jokes, but you touch his heart the way no one else could.

Same goes with sex, some might think he'd be this rough-around-the-edge guy, the look on his face makes it look like he can give you a good time and calling you princess while manhandling you on the bed.

It was like that at first, but you want to see that side of him, the young Leon who used to be so passionate and obedient.

So here you are, grinding your wet cunt against his aching cock, your nail gently sliding his foreskin down, revealing his cute tip leaking just as much as you are. His hands tied behind his back, squeezing and pulling on the bedsheets below.

Leon groans, head tilting back and eyes rolling up, you can see his Adam apple bobbing as he tries to swallow his moans. Leon thinks moaning aren't for older men like him, he's embarrassed, ashamed of being so vulnerable after hiding himself for so long. He wants to act tough, to let everyone know they can't kill him, but it seems that you've broken it.

A long whine squeezes out of his throat — high pitched, breathless and needy. He looks at you through his squinted eyes brimming with tears as you stroke his cock slowly, your hips matching your hand movement as you grind on his bare, hairy thigh.

“Shit— Shit— Mngh!��� Leon frantically curses out, hips bucking up to your hand, trying desperately to get you to stroke him properly. “Fuck, fuck! Y-You can't—”

His head rolls all the way back, and you can see his face turning like those anime girls that some guys watch to goon too. Cum trickling out like a fountain, white globs running over your hand, warmth enveloping you as they trail down to his balls, and on the sheets. Honestly you'd play with yourself when looking at that too.

So you did, you took a quick picture of his blissed out face, before resuming your pace on his cock. His cum makes things so much easier to fuck, wetter sounds fill the room with glee.

“No, de-delete tha—aaah...fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck—”

He grits his teeth, drool dribbling down his chin and stubble, you can't help but lick it off, trailing to his lips for a sloppy kiss, prying his mouth open so you can hear more of those hidden moans. He looks so different than usual. Brows furrowing upwards as you two lock lips, feeling you bite into his lower lip, soothing it with your tongue and sliding said tongue inside his mouth, swirling around his.

Leon cries, mumbling something about you going faster. He's so cute, trying to threaten you and taking control, yet you're not the one being tied up. You remind him of his place by squeezing the shaft, and your free palm rubbing the tip harshly, making his words turning quick into mewls.

Your own hips moving clumsily, you're so focused on making him cry, you leave your cunt aching and dripping so much. Leon feels how wet you are, and that just makes him react even worse, cock twitching and yearning to be inside you.

"P-Please—" He cries, hips buck against your palm. “W-Want you...t' feel it inside you...” Leon begs, he's pulling the sheets so hard it springs out of the mattress.

“Yeah?” You smile, biting down the juncture between his shoulder and neck, making bruises on his body. “I don't know, though. You seem content with just my han—”

“No, please!” He sobs loudly, and you have a small realization that you've never heard of an old man crying until tonight. “Need y' pussy... wanna feel your wet cunt... wanna make you feel good...”

He looks at you through his tear stained eyelashes, and the sight of him crying makes you want to tease him until he passes out, but that's for another day.

You give in, aligning your dripping cunt to the tip of his cock. You have to hold Leon's thighs down since he just keeps pushing his cock up to try and push it through.

“Relax.” You grin, and that sounds like a mock for him. Your smile falters slightly as you sink down on his hard cock, feeling the curvy shape of it bumping just right there against your weak spot.

Leon moans like a girl, and you force yourself not to moan along because it's not everyday you can hear Leon making all these heavenly noises. You breath out heavily, rolling your hips to take him deeper, finally seated on his cock, his pubic hair scratching against your clit.

You hold onto his shoulders and begin bouncing on him, biting your lower lip to keep quiet, occasionally letting out little grunts here or there. Leon gasps, jaw hanging open as his hips rut into your cunt like the pathetic man he is.

“Y-Yesss!” He's drooling all over, glossy eyes staring up at the ceiling while you bounce on him like never before. “Pussy soooo good! Mngh- hngh—!”

Your tits hover close to him, going up and down rapidly. He can't help but lean forward and take your nipple into his mouth, sucking it like a baby. You groan at that, Leon has never looked so cute sucking a woman's tits like this, lips wrap firmly around the perky bud, cheeks hollow and inside, his tongue is going wild over your nipple, flicking it and rolling it. He keeps his mouth occupied by going back and forth between your breasts, until you pull him back by his hair, earning a moan and a clear silver lining of drool connecting his lips and your tits.

“Can't hear your moans when your mouth is busy, Leon.” You say, resuming your rough pace.

His arms begin to struggle, he knows how to untie himself, but he can't really think when he's this deep inside you, inside your hot womb and in your grasps.

“Hngh! Can't—!” His hips snap up against you. “Can't hold it, pleasepleaseplease! Wanna cum...wanna fucking cum!” He begs shamelessly, the little pride left in his body has shattered into pieces as the wave of lust consumed his mind. All he can think about is releasing his hot load inside you.

“P-Please, pretty please—” He's straight up ugly crying now, snots running down his nose as his face tensed up, his wrinkles visible.

“Yeah, cum in me, Leon. Be a good boy and cum inside—” You pant out, eyes half lidded and looking at him with such a mesmerizing gaze, he can't help but kiss you — but, you instantly push his face off, tugging on his hair one last time to hear his delicious scream as his loads fill your empty womb up, and your pussy tightens around him, his fucked up face is enough to make you cum.

God, he's cumming so much, filling you to the brim with white streaks leaking down where you and him are connected.

You pant, untying him lazily as you lean on his body. His wrists burned from the impact, yet he raises his shaky hands up to hug you close, sobbing a bit more before eventually both of you fall asleep like that.

[baynetta]

riding miguel would literally be a sport omg the way he’d have to lift you up off his lap because your body is too exhausted

riding miguel! (nsfw)

they should considere it to put it up to a olympic sport atp cause it’s something that just takes a lot of time and work. i definitely feel they’re some days that he would come home and he’ll be more than pleased to give you a hand. but not today. he’ll come so tired of all the late work that he had to indure. you didn’t know how much he crave for it, to have you all by himself. and why not to try something new, now that you had some practice before why not ride him all by yourself. this time, no guidance and definitely not help. at first you’ll be a little bit intimidate by it, having him staring at you, full in display, on your own bed, him observing every minute detail of your performance. it felt like your first time all over again (who btw was with miguel ofc🤭). he’ll grab you by the wrist to get close to his throbbing cock, he’s been painfully hard the whole day, thrilled just for this moment, so he’s now very impatient. “c’mon just sit on it baby” “don’t be acting like a prude right now”-. he muttered as you start to accommodate his tip already glassed in pre-cum on your entrance, you had it grabbed by his base giving it slow strokes, as your going in you feel how it slowly rasps making his way into your cavities, you yelp at the feeling, mostly bcs you didn’t had any prep. he usually will take his time before fucking you, he’ll eat you out and stick his fingers on your tight cunt till it’s fully mixed with both of y’all juices before he can burried his length into you. but not today. he wanted to feel how you strech yourself with his hardness, how good it i’ll start to dilatate and contract while his tip reach for the cervix.

as you were making it fit, you were whimper and sobbing mess and miguel could feel how tensed you were, how he was ripping his way up. “honey. escúpele” he demanded as you’re half way in. you spit on the palm of your hand and start glazing and rubbing his shaft with the mix of your sticky saliva and arousal. you watched miguel throw his head back off, shutting his eyes. fuck he’s been fantasizing about it for so long. and mind you, you haven’t reached to the base yet. abruptly you feel miguel’s hand groping your mushy hips and dragging you all the way down. it felt so violent the way you took him in one sitting, that you cry loudly at being now fulled by him. “fuck that’s it” he spit, you cry as you clench tightly on him, and fuck he’s having way too much fun, “ahora de nuevo”—he hissed while looking proudly at how well your taking him, such a good girl. you go all the way up again, with one hand on his base trying to keep the control of it, and drop slowly until your inner thighs are crashing with his pelvis, fuck it stings badly, you feel how hard his cock is stretching your walls as well your thighs are starting to cramp and burn as it’s holds your entire body weight. you tried to support your hands on miguels defined abs but he just slapped them away, “don’t fucking try it, put em behind”—you wanted to protest be he’s already giving you that “say it o you’ll regret it” look. you put them behind as you start going up again, and get down giving little semi circular movements, hissing as it starts to hit the right spot. “fuck.. que apretadita estás”- you cry as he’s hitting it, over and over again, your legs burning, the way your hips are loosing the tempo making all the movements messy and desperate for a guidence.

the room has been a mixing sounds of grunts, whimpers and sobbing messes, the filthy noises of the headboard slamming and the loud sounds of skin slapping as your crushing down hard and squirming all over him. miguel throwing his head back groaning and mutting the dirtiest praises “fuckk..such. a dirty. slut” “stop crying or i’ll be worse”. he’ll constantly switch his grip between your hips or your bouncing tits, he’ll twisted and squeez it. he fucking enjoying it watching your tired body starting to collapse. your pretty eyes closed, trying to endure all the pain and pleasure coming from all the parts that his hands and cock are abusing. the minutes you been on and on it’s almost miracle that you didn’t faint, as he sees you getting all flustered and sweaty he’ll grab you by the face, “don’t. fucking. stop”—.you can feel now his thumb digging dip in your jaw, making you gasp. you feel your full body start trembling, you try to inhale and exhale but your lower back and thighs went on shock. the exhaustion in your face as you implored and begged for miguel's help. until you just can't help it anymore and drop your weakened body on top of him. miguel inmidiatly will embrace you in warm and intimate hug, lift you up off his lap, stand up while he’s still inside you. he'll leave a trace of kisses from your collarbone up to your face whispering how good you were and now he's gonna take care of you.

pd: the stamina of this guy GOD he’s probably goes on an on all night 🤭

trad:

-spit on it

-now again

-you’re so tight

[starlemons]

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART SIX

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 1.7K

Warnings ✦ overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI, cussing, weapon caused injury (non-fatal), mention of surgery

A/N ✦ I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE I'VE BEEN SICK :( I'm working on part seven right now and will try to get it posted this weekend

PART FIVE »»» Series Masterlist

I will update the series every 1-4 days depending on my schedule

“Sorry.”, Bruce said as he dabbed a particularly deep cut, you dug your nails into Bucky’s hand, the burning feeling in your feet sending shivers through you. 

Once your wounds had been cleaned sufficiently Bruce reached to his side towards a roll of bandage. 

“Hold off on that right now Bruce.”, Bucky said, “Y/N do you want to go get cleaned up before he wraps your feet? You can use my shower and I can give you some clothes to wear.”

You stared at Bucky, caught off guard slightly, and your face flushed bright red. 

“Yeah-h that works.”, you choked out, feeling overwhelmingly flustered.

“While you’re showering I’m going to be in here with Bruce. I don’t want you coming in here, I’ll come and get you when we are done. You’ve already had a really long night, and I don’t think seeing Bruce perform minor surgery on my arm is going to do you any good .”

Just the thought of watching a bullet being dug out of his shoulder made your stomach roll. 

“Probably a good idea.”, you chuckled. 

Bruce stood up, cleaning up his work area and getting everything prepped for Bucky. You followed, your feet aching. 

“I am allowed to walk around, right?”, you asked Bruce.

“Yes you can, I would recommend you try to walk as little as possible for a few days though.”

“Oh okay.”, you frowned slightly.

“It’ll be okay sweetheart, come on let’s go.”

Bucky smiled and took your hand, having you follow him back out into the hallway and up the stairs to the second level. Entering his bedroom you were amazed with how big it was. 

A large king sized bed with all black bedding sat up against one of the walls, there were several bookshelves around the perimeter of the room, and a small fireplace was in the corner, a velvet green couch placed in front of it.

Releasing your hand for the moment Bucky walked into his closet, returning with a green crewneck and grey sweats.

“I know these might be big on you but figured it would be comfortable.”, he smiled down at you.

“Thank you.”, you blushed, averting your gaze, the thought of wearing his clothes made you feel giddy. 

He handed the outfit to you before he walked through another set of doors into the bathroom, you following behind him. Bucky reached into the small closet next to the double vanity sink, pulling out a towel.

“Here’s this for you,” he said handing it to you, “Also feel free to use anything you want to.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem sweetheart, I’m going to go ahead and head back-”

You cut him off, blurting out, “Are you going to be okay?”

Bucky saw the nervousness in your eyes, he internally smiled, happy with the thought that you were worried about him. 

“Of course I am. Bruce has worked with me for years, I trust him with my life, and besides this isn’t the worst injury I’ve ever got.”, he nonchalantly said, immediately regretting the words leaving his mouth. 

You both stared at each other for a moment. Bucky’s brain was overwhelmed with the realization that sooner rather than later he was going to have to explain everything to you, and as soon as he did that he was afraid you would flee, wanting nothing to do with him ever again. He wouldn’t blame you for that, you were in his eyes the personification of innocence, and he was one royally messed up guy.

“What’s wrong?”, you asked him.

He looked sick, skin pale, and he had an expression of sadness plastered on his face.

“It’s nothing, you need to worry about right now doll. We can talk about it after I get back, I did promise you we would talk about everything tonight after all.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

He reached out and squeezed your hand.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, you can hangout in my room until I get back, if you want to.”

With that he made his leave, closing the bathroom doors behind him. You sat the clothes and towel down on the counter and moved towards the massive walk-in shower. Stripping off your ruined dress, you stepped into the shower and began fiddling with the knobs. Water poured onto you from the showerhead above you.

The warm water rushed down your body, soothing your stressed muscles. You looked at the shelving on the wall noticing several different options of soaps and shampoos. 

Reaching for one of the bottles, you picked up some coconut scented shampoo. Lathering your hands with the soap you ran your fingers through your hair, washing out the dirt and other forest foliage that had become tangled into your strands. After you rinsed out your hair, you grabbed a matching scent of body wash, scrubbing the grime from your body. 

You stood under the running water for several minutes after you had finished washing yourself, enjoying the comfort the warmth brought you, and the sound of the shower splashing onto the tiles. As your fingers started to prune you figured you’d been in there long enough. You turned off the water, and moved to get your towel. 

You dried your body and hair before slipping on Bucky's clothes, which were in fact big on you, due to the fact the man was practically double your size. Picking up your used towel off the floor you refolded it and set it over the edge of the bathtub, also doing the same with your dress. 

Walking out of the bathroom and back into Bucky’s room you looked at one of his nightstands, seeing the alarm clock that sat on it read ten thirty. 

‘Shit’, you thought.

You hadn’t talked to Nat in over three hours, she was probably going to think you had been murdered at this point. Hesitantly you looked towards the bedroom doors, remembering Bucky had said to stay in his room until he was done. Wrestling back and forth on what to do, you decided on going downstairs to try and find your phone, he had just said to not go back into the office so it wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong. 

You slowly eased down the stairs, your feet hurting still. As you stepped onto the first floor, you looked towards the living room, seeing Steve sitting on the large couch. You wobbled over to the furniture, plopping yourself down on it. 

“Can you do me a favor?”, you asked him. 

Steve looked caught off guard at the fact you were talking to him. 

“Uh, it depends.”

“Can you help me find my phone? I don’t know where it is.”

“It’s in Bucky’s office.”

‘Shit’, you thought.

“Okay well could you go get it for me? Please. I’m not allowed in there right now according to Bucky.”

“Yeah no problem.”, he said as he stood and headed down the hallway towards the office.

Steve pushed open the doors to the office space. Bucky laid on his back, Bruce hovering over him, silver tools in his gloved hands. 

“It going okay so far?”, Steve asked.

“Yeah almost got it out, just have to stitch him up after.”, Bruce said as he shifted the tools, Bucky letting out an agonized groan. 

Steve nodded and walked to Bucky’s desk, picking up your phone and heading back to the living room.

“Here.”, he said as he lightly tossed it to you and sat down.

You caught your phone immediately turning the screen on.

WIFEY 6 MISSED CALLS

You rushed to unlock your phone, dialing Nat back.

“Y/N?!”, she said as she answered the call.

“Nat, I’m so sorry I-”

She cut you off, “Dude what the fuck I thought you’d been kidnapped or murdered, I was seriously debating on calling the cops.”

You knew Nat was extremely overprotective of you and wasn’t bluffing.

“You don’t need to call the cops Nat, I’m completely fine.”

Steve stiffened on the couch, immediately shooting you a look.

“What are you even doing right now?”, she asked.

“I’m at his house.”

“Shit I’m being a cockblock right now okay by Y/N, use protection.”, and with that Nat hung up the phone. 

Pulling your phone from your ear, noticing Steve looking at you weirdly.

“So what was that about the police?”, he asked.

“Oh nothing, my roommate thought Bucky had kidnapped me or something and was saying she almost called them.”, you shrugged.

Steve relaxed at that, turning his attention back to his own phone

“Ah okay.”

The two of you sat on the couch in silence, you scrolling through your social media feed. Footsteps echoed from down the hall, Bucky emerging from it. He was shirtless, bandages wrapped around his chest and shoulder. Your eyes quickly glanced up and down his torso. Seeing you do this Bucky smirked, enjoying the blush that blossomed across your face.

“I’m going to change and I’ll be right back sweetheart.”

“Okay!”, you said, staring after him, admiring his muscular back from behind as he walked upstairs. 

A few minutes later Bucky reappeared, wearing a coffee colored hoodie, plaid pajama pants, and a pair of slippers. In his hands he held another pair of slippers.

“I figured you’d want something soft to wear after Bruce bandages your feet.”

The next several minutes went by quickly. You and Bucky made your way back to the library, Brue wrapping your feet. After that you made your way into the kitchen, following after Bucky. You leaned up against the counter as Bucky made the two of you hot chocolate. 

“Let’s go sit outside to talk.”, he said, handing you your mug.

The two of you made your way outside, down some steps, and over to a firepit surrounded by plush patio furniture. You sat in the chair beside the one Bucky had chosen for himself. You could tell he was nervous as he sipped his drink, his eyes staring into the fire. 

“Bucky?”

He turned his attention to you.

“Sorry.”, he said as he took another sip, “I just don’t know how to word what I want to tell you.”

“Just tell me, you don’t have to sugar coat anything, just be honest.”, you reached out and squeezed his hand. 

Staring into your eyes, he took a deep breath.

“Y/N.”, he started, “I am the head of the Barnes Family, the largest mafia organization in this city.”

PART SEVEN

TAGLIST IS OPEN!! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ADDED!

TAGLIST ☆⋆｡𖦹°��★ @danzer8705 @sebastians-love @mrsnikstan @mgchaser @singsosworld @moviegurl2002 @akiyhara @multifandom-boss-bitch @dopewerewolfdaze @jules-and-gems @scott-loki-barnes @baebank @calicoootalks @dumblani @watarmelon212 @haven-in-writing @barnesxstan @alilstressyandlotdepressy @calwitch @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @greatmistakes @ozwriterchick @notsostrangerthing @baw1066 @sapphirebarnes @abaker74 @blackbirdwitch22 @greatmistakes @urfavfakeblonde @vioplay19 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hisredheadedgoddess28

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 10 - Final Part

I love this story so much and I want to squee and cry at the same time because now I can only visit them as a spectator.

Part 1 is here. AO3

CW: Vague mentions of sexual acts.

It became a code between them, 150. Any time, any place, if they wanted an out or just a reason for intimacy the number would be said and you and John would disappear. The guys of the 141 caught onto it quick enough. When John starts leaning closer, dropping kisses on any small piece of you he can reach they all know to listen for that one number that meant the two of you were either leaving or they were getting kicked out.

The fifth time it happened Kyle, Simon, Gary, and Johnny were watching John flirt with you across the kitchen counter as you are putting away the leftovers from their team dinner.

Simon leans closer to Gary and mutters quietly, “If he says one-fifty I’m gonna need someone to fifty-one-fifty me.”

Kyle, who had the unfortunate timing to be taking a sip at the moment of this comment, shot beer through his nose. The coughing laugh drew both yours and John’s attention. Johnny was the only one confused at the table.

You pass John a towel and watch with concern as Kyle wipes his face and then the table where he made a mess.

Johnny turns to Gary and whispers, “What’s a fifty-one-fifty?”

Gary smirks as he replies in a hushed tone, “It’s the code for an involuntary psychiatric hold in the States.”

“Oh! Because they are h—”

The towel cut off Johnny’s suddenly normal volume voice from across the table. Kyle’s aim hit dead on even as his body still shuddered with coughs. Everyone knew that Kyle had finished his coughing fit because he is wracked with a massive sneeze.

John looks over his men at the table, eyes narrowed.

“Anything to discuss muppets?”

“Oh leave them alone John,” you call from your place head in the refrigerator.

Everyone but you watches as John catches sight of your half-bent state and his demeanor takes on a lascivious cast. Side eye is shared between the four men at the table.

Skirting the counter John sidles up to you as you straighten, one hand falling to your back, resting above the rise of your pants, and the other gently pushing the door of the fridge closed.

Despite what the guys assume to be his best efforts John’s hushed voice carries. Must be a side effect of either him using his captain’s voice for so long or the intrinsic quality in his men to tune into his voice.

“Can I offer you 150?”

Glancing up under your brows you fight down a smile. Your hands drift around John’s middle, resting on his waist.

“How ‘bout zero? I have drinks with my friends downtown in thirty minutes and your men are still here.”

Pouting is a new look for John. Gary makes a face as if he has just seen the devil’s ass and found it covered in boils.

“Love you, John, have a good time with your guys,” you lean up and press a kiss to his lips before stepping back and addressing the team. “Have a good poker night guys.”

You leave with a chorus of goodbyes on your heels. For all their annoyance with John and his inability to maintain focus with you nearly every one of the guys liked you and had added you to their mental shortlist of good people.

Simon started to rise to grab the poker supplies but froze at John’s abrupt hand slash. The familiar movement to wait caused all the men to hold their positions. When the sound of your car pulling away and down the road finally fades John looks at his men.

“I have something to show you. Stay.” He takes off from the kitchen, feet eating up the distance to his destination.

He is back in less than a minute. Simon sat back down while waiting for his return. Both Kyle and Johnny sent their sergeants questioning glances, but neither Gary nor Simon had any clues.

John set a jewelry box on the center of the table. Gripping the small knob between two fingers he pulled out the bottom left drawer. It sat empty except for two rings, one with a large clear stone that could be nothing but an engagement ring and the other a matching plain band.

“Gonna wife the bonnie up?” Johnny waggled his eyebrows at John.

Rolling his eyes John looked at the rest of them for their reactions. Simon shrugged, arms folded across his chest.

“She’s good people.”

Gary nodded, “I doubt you could ever find someone better for you. She treats us like the good side of the family.”

Kyle half stood and pulled both rings from the drawer.

“I would marry her myself if I thought I could fight her away from you.” He narrows his eyes as he looks at something on the inside of the band. “What’s the 150 by the way? Must be important if you had it engraved on the band.”

The men had never seen their captain embarrassed, let alone go beet red.

John straightens up, hand reaching back to rub the back of his neck and scratch at the base of his hair.

“I might have offered 150,000 to see her naked before we got together.”

Guffaws and full-throat laughter cloud the room as John snatches the rings from Kyle, shoves them back in the drawer and returns the jewelry box to its place of honor on your dresser. It sits next to a photo of the two of you at the first New Year’s at Kyle’s, the one taken before John disappeared and nearly died.

Stepping back into the dining space the laughter has died down into the random chuckle and snicker when anyone would look at John for too long.

“Alright boss, tonight we are betting on truths because I desperately want to the full story about offering to see your bird naked,” Gary launches the challenge across the table.

That is how the night goes, John fighting for his proverbial life to keep his secrets to himself and losing to odds that casinos would weep for.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

It takes him a few weeks. A few weeks of girding his loins after getting the needed approval from his men to ask you. He had spoken to your father who placed a firm hand on John’s shoulder and said “If she finds out you asked me before her no god will be able to save you.”

With that, deeply concerning and somehow still accurate, warning ringing in his ears John starts to plot. He wanted to give you a grandiose event where he paid for a flash mob and the biggest damn bouquet he could find. He ran the idea past Simon who blinked at him as if trying to dislodge the thought that he willingly followed an idiot.

Simon placed a hand on the same shoulder your father did and gave a single shake of his head.

“She would hate that and you know it,” he walks away as if he didn’t just singlehandedly ruin John’s plans.

Falling into bed that night John sits next to you, back resting against the headboard as he runs a hand over your shoulders. You don’t cuddle when you are ready to truly get to sleep. It’s hard to cuddle the way you cock one leg, twist and strangle your pillows and finally flop into the oddest positioning claiming it is for comfort.

The thought slips out, like every part of him but his mind is ready for your answer already.

“Would you marry me?”

Your breath hitches under his touch.

Pushing up to one elbow and one hand you look up at him. John focuses all his years of training on keeping his face even.

“Of course, I would marry you.”

“When?” He probes.

You tuck your knees up under you, kneeling on the bed now. John lets his hand fall to yours in your lap.

“Tomorrow.” The serious look on your face is enchanting.

“No white dress or cake or fancy party?” Narrowing his eyes at you he wonders at your response. You had no doubt imagined and even designed the dress of your dreams.

“The frills don’t change the goal, just the timing of it,” you thread your fingers through his as you knee walk closer to him. “I love you and would marry you now, except any judge we have to wake to marry us would probably tell us to piss off and come back in the morning.”

Lifting a hand to your cheek John’s heart swells in his chest at the weight you rest in his palm. The soft look on your face makes his decision for him. Leaning forward he drops a kiss on your lips.

“Close your eyes and don’t open them till I say.”

Your lids drift close without hesitation. John climbs from the bed, retrieving both rings he bought for you. Blowing a lung’s worth of air through his nose he kneels, one knee pressing him up from the floor and the other a resting place for his elbow as he holds out the ring with a stone. He tucks the other onto the pointer finger of his left hand. Would hate to lose that.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

It takes you a heartbeat to locate him, eyes blinking before settling on him.

“Yes.”

You don’t let him even ask.

“Typically I need to ask—”

“Nothing about us is typical. Yes.”

John laughs, nerves shivering through his body as he sheds the layers and layers of stress he had built up in his mind.

Sticking out your hand impatiently you wiggle your fourth finger at him.

“Hurry up John. I want to fuck the lights out of you. Now get up here.”

Never a man to turn down an offer like that John slides your new ring into place and stands to be devoured by your kisses.

As you ride him into oblivion he places the flat ring on the ring finger of your other hand.

Never has a man been more lucky than he to take a nap at a seamstress’ shop.

Part 9 | Fin

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

@madsothree

[vaspider]

Since I just turned off reblogs on another post that quickly went from "let's have fun" to "this is fucking awful, I'm taking away this toy," please read this BlueSky thread from rahaeli, who I don't think is on here.

Most of it I've c/p for ease of readability bc BSky's threading sucks.

Okay, it's time again to talk about what the experience of having a social media account with a bunch of followers (*) is like. (* "a bunch" of followers is platform dependent. I'm getting irritating shit at 2k on Bluesky I didn't get until 10k on Twitter.)

(Ugh, wait, nevermind, I hit 3k while I wasn't looking. Anyway.) Someone who has never had more than 100 followers literally cannot comprehend the sheer volume of the responses you get. Even if individual posts don't get a ton of replies, if you post with any frequency, it accumulates.

Once you hit the first degradation threshold, your experience gets a little bit shittier. It's overwhelming volume, but the people who are following you are mostly ideologically, socially, and culturally aligned to you. You have the same concept of social media manners.

You'll get a few duplicate comments, because nobody reads the comments before they reply, but they're mostly from cool people, so you just roll your eyes a little at the same joke five times. You still make friends. You still have fun and can wind up finding neat new people.

And then those neat new people retweet your stuff, and it starts reaching out to an audience of people who are less aligned with what you think of as social media manners. You start getting some replies you find obnoxious: they're in good faith, you can tell, but they just grate on you sometimes.

And then *those* people start reposting your more viral threads, and you get people following you who are three degrees of separation from the people you are most likely to vibe with. And three degrees of separation is the second degradation threshold.

The second degradation threshold is where you start getting the constant, low-grade sand-in-a-pearl annoyances. The person who wants to argue with everything. The 15 people making the identical shitty "joke" that's actually just doing the exact thing you're complaining about, "ironically".

The people who look at a post that contains no question marks and think "there is an implied question here and I will answer it!" and leap to offer the most basic advice that you already thought of because you have existed for more than three seconds and can, in fact, think of the obvious answers.

The people who are spoiling for a fight no matter what, because you used one word in the post that is their particular berserk button and they're going to scream at you for hating waffles because you said you like pancakes even though you never mentioned waffles.

It is constant. It is never-ending. You cannot escape it. Every time you post anything at all, opening the app means wading through twenty garbage replies for every reply from someone who is actually cool and you'd vibe with just fine if you chatted with them.

You want to bitch about a minor annoyance? There will be 40 people all giving you the same useless advice. You want to squee about something you're enjoying that's making you happy? There will be 40 people coming to scold you because that thing isn't morally pure enough.

Every post. Every day. About 75% of the time you compose a post, you will get halfway through writing it and think "I can't deal with the replies this will get today" and delete it. You stop talking about things you enjoy, because you're tired of people shitting on them.

You stop complaining about the tiny annoyances in your life that you want to bitch about, because weirdly enough you already HAVE tried the first fifteen obvious suggestions you're going to get, and you don't want to spend an hour explaining why they won't work to everyone who's "helping".

(But you can't just ignore the "helpful" posts and not engage with them, because then you start getting accusations of being "elitist" and "standoffish" and jesus, lady, we're just trying to help here, why do you have to be so fucking rude and stuck-up, you full of yourself bitch.)

If you are any less gracious to the 40th person than that person thinks they deserve, there is a very good chance they're going to call you a cunt and drag allot their friends in to dogpile you and make the site unusable for at least three days.

The third degradation threshold is when you start needing to regularly call your local police department and politely remind them there are people who get very mad at you online and will try very hard to have you murdered by armed agents of the state and you'd appreciate it if they didn't do that.

I first had that conversation with my local police department in 2003. It's gotten faster now, at least? You usually don't have to start by explaining what social media even is.

Bluesky has tighter thresholds than Twitter did. On Twitter it was nicely exponential: the breakpoints were around 1k, 10k, 100k. Bluesky is running faster. I'm getting Twitter 10k annoyances at a Bluesky 3k. I am trying very, very hard not to switch over into Twitter 10k defensive posting.

I want to leave the defensive posting back on Twitter. I really do. I want to be able to bitch about a thing without having to wade through 20 "go try [extremely obvious thing]". I want to post about a thing I enjoy without 20 people yelling at me I'm bad for enjoyjng it.

There's a difference between arguing about an idea (which I love) and the onslaught of constantly infuriating replies plucking at your last goddamn nerve. And the more "last goddamn nerve" replies you get, the crankier you are, and then people lose their shit at you because you snapped at them.

So maybe let's all start keeping a few principles in mind: 1) if there's more than one reply, check to see if your point has already been covered. If it has, you don't need to repeat it.

2) Even the funniest joke gets old after the 20th time you hear it in 3 hours.

3) "I'm going to jokingly do the exact thing you just were complaining about because ha ha the real joke is I would never do that asshole thing" is never funny, and it is indistinguishable from you actually doing the asshole thing.

4) If there is no question mark in the tweet, think twice about offering "helpful" advice unless you and the poster know each other *mutually*, not just parasocially, you know it's likely to be new info for them, and you ask "do you want to hear how I handle this?" first and get an affirmative.

5) If you are going to ignore 4, ask yourself "is this a suggestion that someone with a reasonable level of generalized adult knowledge would think of trying within the first 15 minutes of approaching the problem?" If so, do not suggest it.

6) Do you really need to nitpick that grammar, spelling, or word choice? Did you understand what they were trying to say before autocorrect mangled it or they blanked on the exact word they wanted and found a close one? If you understood the meaning, don't be their volunteer copyeditor.

7) Is someone excited about a thing you hate? Are they having fun with the thing? Is the thing a front for white supremacist recruiting or organizing the overthrow of the US government? If the answers are yes, yes, and no, respectively, shut the fuck up and let people enjoy things.

8) We are all occasionally That Commenter. If someone you have a pre-existing relationship with replies to you and lets you know you're being That Commenter, it's because they have a positive enough impression of you they don't want to go straight to block. Treat this like the warning sign it is.

9) It deserves repeating: remember the Law of Large Numbers. Even if you only commented once, you may be the hundredth irritating comment that person got that day. Bluesky's terrible threading makes this worse: people don't keep a single thread of mounting crankiness the way they did on Twitter.

9a) If someone's top tweet sounds really annoyed at something, maybe check their timeline or follow back their nested self-QTs to see what level of irritable they're at and over what so you don't step straight on the same rakes they've been dodging all day.

10) However, remember that BSky also doesn't show replies made by people the OP has blocked in a thread. If they post about a pattern that's making them cranky and you look and don't see anything, they probably already blocked the worst of it. They still saw it in their mentions in order to block.

I really cannot overstate how absolutely exhausting and soul-destroying the experience of having a large account can be. It's also somehow still rewarding, or we wouldn't do it. But especially if you're a woman or a person of color or a female POC, that balance is really, really close most days.

And of course, the ones who stay are the ones who do find it still rewarding enough to keep doing it despite the constant irritations.

From here, the thread moves into a conversation about stuff specific to BlueSky, but the majority of the thread is truly applicable to Tumblr as well.

You may be the first person to comment "op lives on a planet without music," or "op has never heard of [thing OP didn't mention for whatever reason]," but you're probably not, and at a certain point, it becomes like someone tapping a sunburn.

So yeah.

[torturedfujoshidepartment]

May I please see some general Bill dating headcanons? I'd prefer fem, but gn is great too! Thank you.

⚠️General dating HCs for bill⚠️

(I am writing about epilogue bill

ヽ(*´∀｀) )

Cw: mention of physical abuse, bill being a creep, this man is walking caution warning

Rating: suggestive

⚠️people will say this till the cows come home. Bill is a asshole naturally.

⚠️So if by some luck you manage to woo him, good speed 🫡

⚠️ Bills ideal type is all over the place. If you like the same nerd shit as him he’ll either be all over it or say you’re doing it for his attention.

⚠️PDA is a big no go from your end, he’ll only touch you (arm around your waist/ hand on your ass) if he’s trying to “show off”

⚠️He doesn’t bring up the fact he’s dating unless someone brings up his relationship status to bully him

⚠️“actually, I have a girlfriend unlike you tards!”

⚠️And never brings it up again 😭

⚠️ If you steal his shirts to wear, be prepared to get your ass kicked.

⚠️“YOURE GOING TO STRETCH THEM OUT!!!”

⚠️ If he’s feeling nice he’ll let you borrow one to sleep in

⚠️If he finds out you use it as a pillow case or actually wear it he’ll call you clingy (his face is practically red)

⚠️Bill doesn’t like cuddling if you initiate it, he HAS TO BE the big spoon (you end up being the big spoon)

⚠️If you are doing something, bill will stand behind you and stare at you silently. breathing down your neck. He doesn’t realize how creepy it is

🤍“why are you looking at me?”

⚠️ “…what?”

⚠️ If you’re shorter than Bill, be prepared to be his armrest. He’ll stand over you and rest his chin on your head just to piss you off if you’re not giving him attention

⚠️He’s like a cat. A stinky one

⚠️He’ll only shower regularly if it means joining you in the shower…will ask to play with your boobs

⚠️ “C’mon just one squee-“

🤍“Wash your ass bill you stink!”

⚠️Bills gross, he’ll go through your dirty laundry to sniff your clothes (he’ll gaslight you if you catch him in the act

⚠️Will make you sit though his favourite and least favourite movies

⚠️“the producers totally ruined the second movie with this woke bullshit!”

🤍 “Mhm…yeah”

⚠️Most fights between him and you end in a physical confrontation (yeah, it’s rough out here. Women’s shelter down the block bro😭)

⚠️After these fights he’ll silently stare at you and mumble, “sorry…” and hug you.

⚠️He obviously thinks this absolves him of any wrong doings, you make him sleep on the couch for a week

⚠️if you two go to a con, he’ll make you dress up.

⚠️“It’s different when you’re doing it you’re not some cosplay whore!”

🤍“Thanks…?”

⚠️His dorky ass will bring his good quality camera to take photos of you (creep shots)

🤍“Bill, do you have to stand under me…”

⚠️ “Yes.”

over all bill is a shithead and if you stay will him that’s on you gang😭

[penny-anna]

Luz: hey Hunter have you seen-

Hunter, falling off the couch, scrambling to hide what he's holding: what no I wasn't

Luz:

Luz: is that The Good Witch Azura: Book 2: Hecate's Revenge?

Hunter: no?

Luz: yes? did you get that out my room?

Hunter: no, I - I found it, in, uh, the kitchen -

Luz: no you didn't?

Luz: were you actually reading that? why?

Hunter:

Luz: I'm not mad they just don't seem like your kind of thing?

Hunter: ok fine you're always talking about how much you like these Azura books and they seem to make you so happy so I wanted to see why you love them so much, okay? okay??

Luz: oh my god

Hunter: I'm sorry I'll put it back in your room

Luz: .....oh my god :D

Hunter: no no stop

Luz: you care about my interests!

Hunter: no I don't I hate books

Luz: you wanted to read The Good Witch Azura because you like me!

Hunter: noooo

Luz: oh my god you're the sweetest

Hunter: shut up I'm not sweet I'm scary stop looking at me like that

Luz: aww Hunter

Luz: okay but also you need to start with book 1, you can't read them out of order

Hunter: *mumbling*

Luz: huh?

Hunter: I said I finished book 1 last night!

Luz: whoa really? What did you think of the ending?

Hunter: uh I'm just reading them I'm not forming opinions or anything

Luz:

Hunter: ...................Hecate didn't mean that stuff she said, right? she's gonna come back?

Luz: well I'm not gonna spoil it but ohmygosh you're gonna love how this plays out

Luz: ooh favourite character? no - no - favourite chapter - actually, no we can get together with Amity after dinner and all three of us can talk

Hunter: uh-oh

Luz: I can't believe you're actually reading them this is so exciting *squeeing*

Luz: okay but seriously don't ever take stuff out my room without asking again

[winds-of-zephyr416]

AAAAAH NOT EATEN BY SPIDER xD

@winds-of-zephyr416 your picrew Sauron needs someone to corrupt supervise him. [Melkors under cut] [I love this picrew the black Christmas sweater especially, but it also has Nauglamir]

Early:

Dark Hunter:

Aman:

(Not) eaten by a spider:

Late (More goth):

[darlingsfandom]

Time to Clean.

requested: Hey, how are you? I hope so.I'm the same person who asked about Emmett, about the beard care part.I ask you if you do the second part where, you decide to help him take a shower, since he stinks and you can't have sex because of his particular smells, but this time it will be more smut because yes 🤭

TW: p in v unprotected , cream pie, shower sex and swearing.

Not proofread.

You loved Emmett, with your whole heart but sometimes he’d drive you nuts. He was a handyman by day and a handsy man by night.

“Good day at work?” You asked as he came in, hung up his hat, coat and untied his boots before walking into the kitchen to kiss you. You kissed him softly before pushing him off.

“Why are you pushing me away, don’t you love my kisses?” Emmett furrowed his eyebrows together with a slight pout on his slightly chapped lips.

You tilted your head in sympathy before grabbing his shirt.

“Honey, I love you so so much, but…” you sighed before looking into his eyes. “You’re a stinky man.” You wrinkled your nose before Emmett stood up straight.

“Am I always as you said.., stinky?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“No, not always. Just on extra hot days or any day that you work long hours or…”

“Basically it’s all the time.” Emmett ran his hands over his face before leaning against the counter.

“I mean you went how long without showering before things became normal again? It’s going to take awhile babe. I just got you into beard care, maybe I can help you with extra self care… and if you say yes… shower sex is on the table .” Your finger poked his nose making him perk up before grabbing your hand, running to the bathroom and pointing to the walk in shower. You rolled your eyes playfully before grabbing a new loofah, a bar of soap and some sugar scrub to help with his smell.

It really wasn’t his fault. Emmett had been alone for such a long time before he met you and had been use to his own smell. Yes he showered everyday, but not to a full extent, sometimes he’d just rinse off and call it good because that’s what he had grown to know. Now he has you, trying hard to help readjust to a new world that was acting like nothing ever happened.

Emmett stood before completely naked with a grin on his face. You but your bottom lip before stripping down to nothing making Emmett let out a playful whistle.

“Got myself my own goddess!” He wrapped his arms around you before helping you into the shower. You started the water as he peppered your face with kisses.

“Emmett! No sex until after you get scrubbed down babe.” You giggled as he continued with the kisses until it dawned on him that there was no sex yet. He gave you that signature pout until he seen you grabbing hands and turning him around so he was under the hot water. A sigh of relief left his body , his muscles relaxed as the water melted him. You grabbed the bar of soap, lathered it into the loofah and gave Emmett a soft smile before placing the loofah onto his wet, hairy chest. He watched in awe as you slowly moved the loofah up and down.

“What’s that smell?” He asked scooping some of the suds onto his finger.

“It’s just bar soap honey, it doesn’t have a signature smell like my soap does.” You washed over his stomach next before squaring a little bit to wash over his legs.

“All your soaps smell different and pretty!”

“Do you want to smell pretty Emmett?” You asked scrubbing his calves.

“Depends on what you got baby.”

You stood up carefully, grabbed his arms and washed them before turning him around to scrub over his back.

“I have coffee scented soap right now.”

“I’ll take it!” He said eagerly as you washed his neck.

Emmett jumped a little when you poked his butt playfully before giving him a soft spanking.

“Someone’s having a little too much fun back there.” He looked over his shoulder with a smirk before blowing you a kiss. You gave him a little wink before squeezing out the loofah, hanging it back up and grabbing the liquid coffee soap to squeeze into your hands. After you lathered up the soap you washed over Emmett’s body carefully watching as he watched you while letting the water rinse him off. Once you had him cleaned on that part he grabbed your hips and put you against the shower wall.

“I know there’s more to do but I need you.” His lips were on yours before you could even process a thought. Your arms went around his neck as the two of you made out heavily.! Teeth clanking against each other , small yet heavy bites on each others lips all while his hands snaked over your curves and up to grab your breasts. Emmett pulled on your nipples slowly making you moan into his mouth. His tongue slipped into your mouth as you moaned.

Emmett switched spots with you so you could feel the warm water too. He moved his mouth onto your nipples, biting them slowly but hard enough that they would bruise. Your hands held onto his biceps the best they could as he kissed between your breasts. Emmett looked up at you before he lifted up your leg and hooked it around his waist.

“Fuck me baby.” You whined.

His eyes darkened a little before he took his cock and pushed it inside of your cunt.

“FUCK!” You gripped onto his arm as he pushed all the way into you. His animalistic side took over. Normally Emmett would slowly push into you and gently fuck you but not right now, now he needed to feel you on him. He watched as your jaw dropped while he held your hips and fucked you like you were just a toy. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he bounced you on his cock with no mercy. His groans filled your ears along with a few growls which made you whine since he was treating you like a doll. You loved this side of Emmett because it didn’t always come out. He loved giving you pleasure anyway possible so it was important that you felt good, but when he was in his dominant mood… he was all in.

He watched how the water splashed off your tits, how they jiggled as he pounded into your cunt, it was the best sight he’s witnessed. Your hand slipped down the glass door of the shower that had been fogged up from the steam of the hot water and the heavy breathing coming from the two of you.

“That’s my good girl! Fucking taking my cock like a common whore!” Emmett reached down between your wet bodies and rubbed your clit with his thumb as his free hand readjusted your leg to keep it around his waist.

“I’m your whore baby.” You pushed your hips up to meet his thrust and Emmett smacked your thigh.

“No no sweetheart, I’m taking what’s mine!” He growled between teeth before kissing you sloppily. Your body was covered in goosebumps. Your heart was beating so fast it could’ve ripped right out chest.

“Emmett! Yes! Fuck! I’m yours!” He nipped at your throat making sure to cover all of it with dark purple hickeys . There wasn’t an area that didn’t have some sort of bruise since Emmett loved to mark you and you enjoyed just as much.

“I know that look, you’re going to cum, but you’re not cumming until I do!” Emmett fucked into your cunt faster making you whine as your hips started to buck again and this time he let you. Emmett watched as your face started to twist with pleasure , leg squeezing his waist tighter, you were on the edge. His thumb circled your clit harder as he looked into your eyes and that’s all it took

“Please Emmett please! I’m so close!” You begged while grabbing at his arms.

“Cum with me sweetheart! Cum like the good girl you are!” Emmett coaxed you through it.

Your climax ripped through your body, squeezing his cock tightly as you came. You tried to shut your eyes but Emmett slapped you to keep eye contact. His own orgasm hit him as you came down from your high. He held you tight as he shot his load into you making you whimper.

“Emmett, you make me feel so good baby.” You hiccuped out a soft breath making him smile at you before gently unhooking your leg from his side. You stood on wobbly legs before he bent down to kiss the top of your head.

“You make me feel good too sweetheart.” Emmett stroked your cheek before you grabbed some more soap and to his surprise you started washing yourself. “No no baby, you washed me now it’s time for me to wash you.”

For once is his life Emmett knew what it meant to feel loved and it was all because of you.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

I just know wade would be asking u to grind ur teeth down on it...i just know it....

hi anon ur so right wade actually has you do insane shit to him dick biting is just the BEGINNING‼️😮‍💨 and the first time he suggests it you’re mortified 😭 you’re giving him that gawk gawk 3000 typhoon top but he’s still kinda soft 😰 you’re lowkey worried feeling self-conscious about your head game until he cups your face and swipes his thumb across your cheek

“can i ask you a weird question?”

when you’re having sex with wade wilson, this could lead to literally anything. “does this bump on my nutsack look different than usual?”, “what’s your stance on the death penalty?”, “did i ever tell you about that time i got my dick stuck in the toaster?” you brace yourself for whatever batshit insanity is about to slide out of his mouth.

“yeah, go for it.”

“can you use your teeth on it? just, like… keep doing what you’re doing, please, it’s fucking amazing. i just want a little more texture.”

huh?! is he for real?! but you’ve worked so hard to NOT do that! years of toiling in the dick-sucking mines has trained that right out of you, and he wants you to throw all that away? why?! “uh… are you sure?”

he just laughs in response

“aw, you’re so cute! so sweet, worrying about me like that! think about it. why would i ask for this if i didn’t want you to do it, stupid boy?”

…y’know what? fair enough. you close your teeth around his shaft and cheese grater up and down the length of his throbbing, bumpy cock.

“OH~! fuck, just like THAT, baby, YES~! mmm… fu-u-ck, that’s perfect… like… like you’re trying to bite the batter off a corndog, baby, there you go…”

and when i say it gets worse from there i mean it gets WORSE!!!! like he’ll come up behind you while you’re cooking dinner.

“hey, slutter-butter, you got a minute?”

“uh… yeah, actually!” you put down the knife you were about to use to chop an onion, and spin around to face him. “haven’t really started yet, what’s—“

he’s holding a strap-on.

“yes, hi, this is wade wilson, i’ve got an appointment for a prostate exam at 4PM?”

you smirk and saunter towards him, eager to play along with this spontaneous bit, “hmm… i’m not seeing you on our records, mr. wilson. are you sure it was scheduled for today?”

“i’m not sure, actually. i’ve made that mistake before. but this clinic takes walk-ins, right?”

“yes we do, sir, but today’s been pretty busy.” you wrap your fingers around his on the silicone shaft and pull him into you. “but i’ll see if i can squeeze in you.”

wade bounces and squees with joy and hands you the strap. you don’t even get it all the way on your hips before he’s bending over. onto the stove. where you were preheating a cast-iron skillet.

“oh, shit, WADE—!”

“what?” he stares at you blankly, holding the hot pan you were about to use. he’s silent for a moment, then two, and then it clicks. “oh!” he sets the pan down in the sink, claps his hands together, then points at you. “forgot you’re a normie! logan fucks me over the stove all the time. doesn’t really matter for us, since we’re freaks of nature and third degree burns just tickle us psychosexually, but, uh… would you… wanna try it? do a little flambé action? roasted wade wilson breasts? i promise, it’s fun. it makes me moan like a coked-up whore late on rent.”

you snort at his stupid comparison, and it actually puts your mind at ease a bit. it doesn’t surprise you that him and logan get up to this kinda thing when you’re not around. in fact, you’re actually flattered to be allowed to take part in it. to take advantage of him like this.

“fuck it. bend over, you fucking weirdo masochist.”

“yippee! yay! thank you, daddy!!!”

wade eagerly yanks his shorts down, widens his stance, and slams his bare chest onto the glowing red burner. his leathery skin sizzles with the smell of cooked human flesh.

“ooooh, that feels so fucking good on my right nipple… lemme roll a little, get the other side, ah~! oh-h-h, it hurts so fucking good!!!”

you get into position behind him, but he holds his hand out backwards to halt you.

“wait! one more thing!”

he reaches over and grabs the gigantic chef’s knife, freshly sharpened and pristine, that you had lying on the cutting board next to a soon-to-be mutilated onion, and offers it to you.

“jam this through my palm when i say i’m getting close. that’s the finishing move. have me spraying a whole little league team out my dick.”

[idontwantrobyntodie]

HEY THIS IS THE BEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME??

OK WRITEBLR NEW GAME (tag game or opt in)

A) pick one or a few of your characters

B) drop every physical attribute of theirs that is described (or implied) in canon/in your draft (so far!) bonus if you quote the parts with the description directly from the text

C) are there any other physical characteristics they have they you are sure about but haven't made it into the text (yet)? what are they?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: The ho-lidays are the daddies and the baddies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You bob around to the tinkling of carols as they waft over the store. Unlike your coworkers, you enjoy the repetitive tunes. They are so fun and bright and help the time pass between customers and stocking. Not that there isn't more than enough to keep you busy.

In the rare moment where you aren't distracted, you let yourself browse the colourful lipsticks and shining perfume bottles all around. You don't have anyone to shop for, not even yourself. You have your dollar store glosses and discount nail polishes. You don't see the need to spend too much on those things. Or maybe you just prefer what you know. Simple and cheap.

Around lunchtime, traffic really picks up. Several customers ignore your approach and brush by you before you can entice them into buying some Chanel. You've already hit your sales targets but you never really think of numbers.

A woman stops you and asks for a very specific palette. You know just the one. You think it's cute, it looks like a cupcake, and while you adore the aesthetic, it isn't worth the price tag. It's just powder!

You show her where it is and Luanne comes over to take the reins. She's the makeup genius, her flawless contour is proof enough. You turn to float back to your zone and see a man watching you. You recognise him! Vaguely. You see a lot of people in a day.

"Good afternoon," you sing as you near him, "anything I can help you with?"

His throat bobs as he cheek ticks, "uh, yeah, er..." he pushes back his gray jacket, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, "you remember me?"

You smile as you try not to show your cluelessness, "I think..."

"I came in last week," he says.

You think, scrunching up your face as you tap your chin, "yes! You bought Liz Taylor for you mother."

"Mother-in-law," he corrects you, not unkindly.

"Yes, that's it," you jab your finger upwards, "you complimented my sweater."

"Yeah, that was me," He finally smiles, "anyway, I was thinking of getting a gift for my wife. Just a little stocking stuffer."

"Oh, that sounds so cute," you nearly squee. You get so excited to help people shop for a loved one. At the same time, you feel that void. Maybe one day you'll have a husband thinking of you. "We have some great gift sets, actually. They come with different scents so you're wife can figure out which one she likes best." You direct him over to a shelf, "oh, and if she has a favourite, you can get her a full bottle for Valentine's!"

He gives you a look. His eyes narrow just a bit and his cheeks round, "that's a good idea."

He glances over the shelf and you wait patiently. He turns back to you, his eyes flitting over your name tag as he reads it out, "do you have a suggestion?"

"Me?" You perk up, "well, I actually like the Coach. It's not too expensive and it's nice and subtle."

"Is that what you wear?" He asks.

"I don't... I use some cherry blossom body spray but I usually smell like the whole store by the end of the day," you shrug.

"Cherry blossom," he nods, "oh, by the way, I'm Andy."

He offers his hand in an overly formal way. You giggle but take it nonetheless. You don't really get that often.

"Sorry," he squeezes your hand firmly before letting go, "lawyer, habit."

"No, it's fine," you assure him, "I'm just a perfume salesman, is all."

"Well, you're really good at your job," he praises.

"How do you know?" You say.

"You're friendly and helpful. I have no complaints," he reaches past you and claims the Coach pack, "she's going to love this. I owe you."

"No problem. Do you need me to ring you up?"

"Actually," he sighs, "she has this idea. Christmas card. I'm supposed to find a sweater. So, I need to look around some more."

"Oh, that's so cool. A Christmas card? The sweaters are just over in the men's, right near the east entrance," you point, "they have some really cute Charlie Brown ones."

"Charlie Brown," he repeats.

"Anyway, I'll let you go," you clutch your hands together, "I hope your wife likes the perfume."

"I'm sure she will," he agrees, hesitantly clapping the kit between his hands, "uh, thanks. Again." He leans back on his heel, "oh and, that's a really nice colour on you."

"Uh," you look down at your gem green blouse, "thank you, sir."

"Andy," he insists, walking backwards, "again, you're a life saver."

You grin proudly and he spins on his heel, nearly knocking into Luanne as she comes over. He apologises as he side steps her and continues on. She gives you a strange look.

"Geez," she grumbles, "people. This time of year makes everyone so crazy."

"Well, he was nice," you say.

"Kinda cute, too," she intones.

"He was shopping for his wife."

"Lucky lady," she scoffs, "so, you wanna go on lunch first? I'm dying for a latte."

"You can go, I don't mind," you say, "I'm not very hungry."

"Deal," she winks, "I'll get you a hot chocolate for your trouble."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't have to, I want to, sweetie," she preens.

"Fine, fine, I accept your coerced hot chocolate.”

🎀

Another day close to complete. It's like checking off items on a list. Each evening seems to darken sooner than the last, every morning rising too soon.

You yawn at the empty fragrance section as it’s only you left for the last hour. There isn't much to do except balance the till. Your headset keeps you entertained as electronics calls out possible shrink and home goods argue about their numbers.

“We need a body at returns,” Lucille cuts through the chatter. “Now.”

No answer comes and you slowly slide your hand up the wire. Before you can hit the button, your name is snarled from the other end. You're ordered up to cash to assist with the hordes.

You leave the ghost town that is beauty and as good as skip up to the front. You calm your step as you see Lucille sneering at you from behind a machine. You give a tiny smile and claim the extra screen behind returns. 

“I can help the next person,” you call and wave your hand in the air.

You stand back and wait for your first customer. A man comes up and throws a torn open package on the counter, the item bouncing out of the plastic. You flinch and barely catch it before it can slide off the other edge.

“Hello, sir,” you bat your lashes, “how are you today?”

“Not fucking well,” the man snarls. His mustache tickles your memory; do you know him? “It’s a piece of shit.”

“Oh, okay,” you look down at the trimmer and examine it, “you’d like to do a return?”

“Yes, I’d like to do a return,” he snaps, “are you dim?”

“Of course, sir,” you punch in your ID and passcode, “I’ll just get you going. Do you have your receipt?”

“A receipt? I bought the damn thing here, look it up.”

“Ah, alright, when did you buy it?”

“You don’t remember, little trigger finger,” he sneers.

“What do you mean?”

“Pfft, right, you think spraying people with skunk spray is fun?”

“Um, no?” Your cheeks tremor as you withhold a frown; you think you know him now as you’re hit by a sudden wave of Gucci cologne, the scent of a memory. “Did you have the card you purchased this with?”

“You don’t think I have money?”

Everything he says is aggressive. Your questions bounce off him like accusations. You don’t know what to say that won’t agitate him further, He huffs and kicks a foot out, leaning on his back heel as he reaches in his back pocket.

He flicks a black card onto the counter, “put it back on this.”

You nod and take the card, examining the nameless front. You turn it over and swipe it in the machine instead to search the number. He scoffs, “bet you never seen one of those up close.”

“Sir,” you smile bigger, letting the insult ping off of you. All the money in the world and he has no manners.

You find the purchase with the same sku and put his card back on the counter. He snatches it up as you start the return. You scan the barcode and continue on to the next screen, “what’s your name, sir?”

“Lloyd,” he answers curtly. You type, waiting, then look up at him, “Hansen.” He finishes sharply, “with an E, got it?”

“Yes, sir, and the reason for return?”

He rolls his eyes, “it doesn’t fucking work.”

“Alright. So it doesn’t cut the hair or–”

“It won’t turn on,” he growls.

“Right,” you take the trimmer and turn it over. It looks fine enough, even after he threw it. You slip the door of the battery compartment off. It’s empty, “and you had double As in it?”

“Double As?” He repeats.

“It needs batteries, sir.”

He pauses, eyes flaring, nostrils flaring.

“You think I’m stupid? That I don’t fucking know that? You’re not getting free fucking batteries from me.”

“Of course, sir, of course,” you rarely feel this addled, even this time of year, “I’ll get you your money back on a gift card–”

“Gift card? I want my money,” he holds up his card between two fingers.

“Yes, sir, I understand. As per our return policy, personal care items, once opened, are only eligible for a store credit return. Or you can exchange for another item. Would you like to look at our other trimmers? I can put this aside while–”

“What? How would I know that?” He hisses.

“It says on the receipt, sir.”

“I don’t have the goddamn receipt,” he barks.

“I know, sir, sorry. I can only refund this amount on a gift card. I can’t override the option.”

“I want a manager. NOW!” He demands as you jump in your shoes.

“I… I’ll see if she’s avail–”

Lucille has you jumping even more as she appears beside you, no doubt drawn by the raging man in front of you. She elbows you out of the way, not even acknowledging you as she puts on her mask. She leans on the counter just slightly.

“Sir, is there something I can help with? I’m the manager,” she says.

“I want my money,” he echoes once more. “I bought a defective product and I don’t want store credit. I drove out here twice for this bullshit.”

“Oh, certainly sir,” she brushes you with her hip, further edging you out, “right back on that black card, right?”

She scans her keycard, overriding the safeguard, and proceeds to the refund screen.

“Yes, exactly,” he snorts, “not like I don’t have even more money to spend here. Even if the customer service is lacking.”

You back away, unsure what to do. Do you just stand there for the transaction or do you go back to your department? You twiddle your fingers and bob on your heels.

Your eyes meet that man’s and he smirks smugly, wiggly his credit card at you. It’s fine, you won’t let him ruin your day. He’s already ruined his own getting so worked up.

🎀

It’s another busy shift. Your hot chocolate has gone cold from your neglect and you long to sneak away and shove it in the break room microwave. You can’t mourn the lukewarm drink as the line before you stretches on. You’re only a week from Christmas.

You finish wrapping the Prada bottle and hand it over the iron-haired woman with her cute curls. You wish her a good day as she waddles off. The next customer comes up, slamming down a cup so hard, the foam of the drink spits through the slot in the lid.

“Hello, sir,” you croon, “how are you today?”

“Here for a pickup,” he ignores your question.

“Right, can I get a name?”

“Why?” He challenges.

“For… for the package,” you sputter.

“Oh, uh, Drysdale,” he sniffs.

“I saw that earlier. I’m the one who called,” you brighten up.

“So you’re the annoying songbird,” he grabs his drink again, “took you fucking long enough. Line’s a mile long.”

“It’s very busy, yes. Everyone’s catching up on their Christmas shopping,” you bounce, “are you almost done yours?”

“Yeah, I bought myself cologne. So, chop chop, sweetheart.”

You nod and quickly spin. People get so impatient. You go into the small back room housed behind the shelves of lockup and you search the shelves. Drysdale. You pluck up the box and hurry back out.

“Right here,” you announce, “I have good news, too.”

“Tell me you’re gonna stop yammering,” he snickers.

“Um, no, the uh… the cologne is currently on markdown so I can do a price match and give you your money back.”

“Why would you do that?” He asks.

“Er, because… it’s policy?”

“You think I can’t afford it?”

“N-no, I didn’t say–”

“Look, I don’t need some department store busy bee to judge me, got it? This scarf costs more than your whole wardrobe,” he touches the patterned scarf around his neck.

“It’s a very nice scarf,” you agree.

He narrows his eyes, “you’re mocking me.”

You shake your head, “no, sir, I like the colours–”

“Give my goddamn package," he reaches and rips the box out of your hands, “and a tip, shut up and do your job. Maybe then you won’t have half the city waiting to get their shit.”

“Thanks,” you swallow down his anger. “Have a great day, sir.”

He doesn’t reply as he takes his cologne and storms away. You watch him and notice his cup still beside your till. It’s too late to call him back. You’ll just put it aside, you’re sure he’ll come back for it.

You move it to the other end of the counter and face the next customer, “hello, how are you?”

“Good,” the blonde woman answers with a gentle smile, “some people…” she tuts, “don’t let the grinches get to you, honey.”

“Thanks,” you feel the ice melt away, “I won’t.”

“Adorable cardigan,” she adds, “I really love the collar.”

“Oh, thank you,” you trill, “is this everything for today?” You gesture to the bottle of Calvin Klein on the counter.

“That will be it. And I’d love to have it gift-wrapped, thank you, hon.”

[quitealotofsodapop]

While Wukong and Thunder are trapped in the web, Rumble and Savage are with MK.

Prev.

Yesss

Wukong sensed danger and didn't want to risk the cubs or MK getting trampled or worse in the chaos - so he passed the twins to MK and tried his best to conceal Thunder beneath his cape. The youngest triplet still couldn't separate from it's parent just yet, and refused to leave him even with great danger looming.

When the Noodle Gang make it to the airship, questions are had;

Pigsy: "Uh, MK? Why are there baby monkeys in your arms and hair?" MK, rattled: "These are Monkey King's babies. He trusted me to keep them safe." Tang: "THE MONKEY KING HAS BABIES!?" Rumble & Savage: (*scared geckering!!*) MK, shushing and cooing: "Ok, its ok buds. Mr Tang was just really surprised! There there.... Your Mama is the strongest monkey on Earth, he can handle anything." Mei: "Except for whatever is going on with those spider zombies." MK, nervous: "Ye-yeah. Spider zombies." Pigsy: (*having a proud papa moment at seeing MK being so good with these weird baby monkey gods*) Red Son: "Since when did the simian reproduce?" The Gang: "Red Son!?" Red Son, annoyed sigh: "Long story. My father was captured as well. I was going to steal this ship so I can find an antidote, but I believe my parents would look down upon me if I robbed shelter from mere infants. So I GUESS we must work together on this." MK: "This is up there with the weirdest day of my life."

Note: the babies try eating Red Son's hair moments into the mission. MK has his existential moment inside the Trigram Furnace with one of the babies in his arms, cooing softly up at him.

Spider Queen sees one of the babies and has to stop herself from squeeing at the adorable fluff balls. She quickly reminds herself that they're all in a brawl rn.