#having so much fun with them you wouldn't get it..

[svelish]

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

Fuck Her Into Confidence

Warnings; g!p!billie x fem!reader, slightly insecure reader, use of pet names, safeword (didn't use it), pussy eating, rough sex, use of "Daddy", controlling, other.

Little note !!: I actually like this better than my others.

"Hmm? Can I finally fuck that sweet little pussy?"

"What? Oh my God... Is that what we're doing?"

"If you want..." Billie looked at you, back to normal. "Whatever you want. You tell me."

You blinked.

"I mean..." She pecked your lips between each word. "We don't have to. I'm also fine with this."

"You mean, you'd be... fine if we didn't do it? Like. But, isn't that what you want?"

"Obviously. Why wouldn't I want to fuck the shit out of you? Have you seen yourself?" Billie grounded her hips against yours again just to watch you squirm. "But the question is: what do you want?"

Your brows knitted for a minute, brewing with thoughts. Then in an instant, your arms were around her neck and you were kissing her like it was the end of the world.

"Is that a yes?"

"Obviously."

"Obviously?" She smiled, squeezing the sides of your neck. "You want to try again?"

You whined. Tried to look away, but she didn't let that pass. Not only because it was fun to mess with you. Push your buttons until your fears fucked off and you become a dirty sex kitten. But because she needed it just as much. Your trust. The intimacy. The freedom to be in control for once.

And she knew just what you needed. Humiliation. Praise. Being cherished. Treated like her favorite toy. The object of her obsession. To tease and play with. Ruin in she wanted to.

"Do you want to get fucked?" She asked slowly, tracing a finger across your collarbone to the strap of your bra, and dropped it down your shoulder. Your breast is a breath away from being naked.

"Yes." You breathed heavily

"Yes, what?"

"Yes. Please." Shame gritted your teeth

She clicked her tongue in disappointment and pinched your nipple. No doubt, the lace made it hurt more, but the way you cried out was delicious. "I'm sure you can do better than that, sweetheart. Want to try again?"

"Fuck. Me. Please." Your eyes burned with angry tears.

"Much better."

Your legs wobbled when she set you down. She threw you over her shoulder to lighten the mood a little. You had a heavy day. Sh didn't want you to get into this with a negative mindset.

Thankfully it worked. You laughed, carried like a sack of potatoes until she dumped you on her bed.

A fake orange candle you had insisted to buy from an overpriced hipster store flickered on her nightstand. The warm glow bounced on the black sheets. The sight of you with wild hair and a little smile pumped her up like an Olympic champion. She'd finally made it.

"Oops. One sec." She fished out her phone from her pocket to text Finneas.

"Stay away tonight." "Sorry not sorry." "Don't tell mom."

"Okay, where were..." She trailed off. You were already crawled over, and sat on your heels, unbuckling her belt. You glanced coyly under your lashes as she grinned at you. "Someone's eager."

Rolling your eyes, you close her fingers around her shaft, sticking out your tongue.

"Look at you, So—" The words died, her brain melting as you sucked her with your hot, slobbery mouth. "Oh my God..." A gluttural moan she'd never made before tipped her head back. She couldn't even care.

You whimpered and choked yourself more, using your whole body to thrust back and forth.

"Yeah. That's my good girl..." She reached for and struck your ass with her palm. Your shocked cry vibrated on her shaft, making her groan. Oh, you were so soaked through your panties already.

You struggled to focus as she teased. Tried to wiggle your butt away from her. That only got you spanked. Sharp. Once on both cheeks. Then right on your pussy. You tried to pull away.

"Don't you fucking move." She curled her fingers around your panties and pulled them aside, tracing your slick lips with a sly realization. "Oh, fuck. You've made such a mess. What's this, sweetheart? You're that fucking needy? Huh? I haven't even touched you yet."

You whined around her cock and tried to move again. Except she fisted the back of your head. You had nowhere to run. All you got was more spanking and crying as she forced you to suck.

"What a pretty little whore."

You only got wetter. She pushed the tip of her finger inside your pussy, watching your eyes go wife. Hands flew to her sides, too overwhelmed to keep going.

"Well, since you can't focus." She tossed her back and yanked down your hips, making you slide on the edge until your pussy was in front of her. She kneeled. Threw your legs over her shoulders, and kissed down your thighs. Licked the outside of your panties. Then over. Up and down.

"Oh my God. Don't... don't stop..."

"Oh, I don't plan to. You have a safe word?" She should've paused, but you were just so cute when flustered. She bit your panties and moved them further away, swiping her tongue up on your slit.

"Ohhh my God! Um. Uh... It's..." You yelped as she sucked on your clit. Knees involuntarily lifting to your chest.

"You better answer."

Your drawl came out humored and ashamed. "Potatoes..."

"Jerk." She laughed. "Way to ruin my childhood."

She climbed on top of you, something tugging her to check in. "You promise you'll say that if you don't like something?"

You nodded in a hurry and kissed her. Moaning and pushing your body up. Alright, well. That answered her question. She gave you what you wanted for a minute, caressing all over.

"Take off your bra. Let me see those titties."

"What?" Your eyes widened.

"Tits out." She wiggled her finger and pushed inside your tight warmth, curling it against your wall. You arched off the bed with a strangled cry. "Off, baby. Hurry."

You managed to do as asked. She licked her lips at your tiny nipples standing for attention. Knowing the air would be cool, she wet her finger and traced around it. You tried to manage your breathing, gaze darting at the ceiling. Savoring every second, she circled my tongue on your nipple, massaging the other between her fingers. Making your body writhe.

You must've forgotten about ger other hand. Because when she actually started to finger her, and added her thumb on your clit, you dug your nails into her shoulders and moaned off the bed. Quickly, your orgasm started to build again. Closer and closer. Almost there.

Billie slapped her clit, then stretched the skin above it, watching your pussy quiver around nothing.

"Aww, poor little thing. Look at it trying so hard to come. Did I ruin it for you?"

"You're an asshole." You kicked your legs to get up, but it didn't take too long for her to collect your ankles in one hand and push your legs up straight. She lifted your butt off the bed like a rag doll.

And then slid my fingers back in, because she could. Because she knew it made her feel like an object. And she loved the pathetic whimper you left out, hating yourself for how much you liked it.

"Good girl." She took off the rest of her clothes and threw them on the floor. "Come. Sit on my face."

"What?"

"I want your pussy on my face. Sit." Billie lied down on her back.

"Um, I don't know..." You brought your knees to your chest. "That's a little too much."

"Is it? I didn't ask." She picked you up by the hips, thigh on each side of her face. You tensed head to-to-toe, trying to get off. "Come down, y/n. Now. Give me that pussy."

"Bil—"

Billie licked up your thin lips and softly kissed your clit. Licked and kissed. Made out with it. Groaning at how delicious and sensitive it was. Hers. This was all hers.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh my God." You slapped the wall, your moans small and panicked, then louder as you threw your head back and let go. "Ah. Oh, fuck. Yes. Yes. Yes."

Little vixen began to ride Billie's face, moving confidently. Billie struck your ass just how you liked it, and fisted a chunk of your hips, bouncing you on her. You cried out at her stubble hurting your pussy, but came just as hard. Scraping the headboard, cum dripping down Billie's chin.

She laid you on your back and kissed your neck, rubbing her waiting cock up and down your drenched slit. You hardly noticed the new position, still floating on cloud nine. Eyes closed, ready to drift off.

Billie slapped your clit with her cock, flinching you up, and pushed her head in without warning. The sharp intake of breath for you had her smirking like a sick sadist.

"Yeah. That's it." Billie folded your knees up, bending them by your sides. You whimpered. Embarrassed she was staring at your pussy the entire time. As if she cared.

She groaned like she'd been waiting her whole life for this. Your reaction was too quiet yourself with the back of your hand and look away from her.

Just for that, she thrust deeper before you were ready.

You jerked up, smacking her chest and abs. But like a damn hypocrite, the fear turned you on.

"Oh, God. It's so big..." You whimpered, pushing her back as she tried to lean closer.

"Too fucking bad." She pinned your hands by your sides, sucking on your nipple. Not stopping her cock from going in and out. You shrilled as she bit, thrashed under her, begging and cursing as your pussy clenched already. "That's a good girl. Yeah, come for daddy. Come for daddy, baby. Good girl."

You gasped at Billie, appalled. Speechless, making her chuckle.

"You okay?" It felt like a natural moment to check in. You nodded and she pecked your nose. "Good."

"You didn't come."

"I know. Turn to your side."

Billie shifted behind you and grabbed your throat, hugging you to her chest. Your mood shifted quickly. The scared little girl back as she nudged her cock in. Curves in her perfect view. Tits and ass within easy access.

When her hand caressed your belly, you slapped it away and sucked your stomach in.

"Excuse me?" She chokes the breath out of her throat. "Did you just stop me?" She rammed you fast and nonstop. Her fingers bruising your hips from fisting a chunk. Ass jiggling on her thighs.

She grabbed your stomach roughly and sneered in your ear. "This is my body. I can do whatever the fuck I want. So if I want to grab it." She squeezed. "I'll fucking grab it. Do you understand?"

She clasped your throat to silence your yes. One bite on your neck, and you broke out in goosebumps. You yelled. Threw your hands at her back, clawing at her skin. She held you as you came. Messaging your tits. Rubbing your clit. Until you turned into a lumpy putty on the sheets.

Billie sat up with raw adrenaline.

"Get on your fours."

"I can't..."

"You can't?" She tossed you up how she wanted. Hips high. Heart-shaped ass pink with hand marks. Push your chest on the mattress, smacking your ass as you resisted. "Get the fuck down."

You stayed still, head bowed, exposing your chest and shoulders. So fucking perfect and all hers.

She spit in her hand and lubed you just in case. Buried her cock inside her again, closing her eyes. Fuck. Nothing felt better than this. Bodies were molded to fit each other. The way her cock filled every corner of your walls. You were loving it too. Dazed. You started to blubber.

"Mmm, daddy..."

"Yeah, baby. Daddy's still using you. I'm not done yet."

You moaned, sounding greedier. And fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing. Watching you be so horny for her. Panties still on as you got fucked. Shoved aside, stretched high on wide hips.

"God, that's my little fucking whore." She began to pound. Not holding back anymore. You wailed, crumbling with each thrust. Slap the sheets, stretch with your nails. She rammed harder, sweat beading on her chest, and slapped your ass hard.

She flung forward and belly-plopped.

Your legs and pussy are spasmed in tremors. With a trembling hand, you tried to cover up while she stared in aw at your post-orgasmic mess. You really were starting to sound and look broken. She chuckled and picked up your hips again, starting off slower so you could catch your breath.

She didn't want it. Tried to throw your hands behind her to stop, but she held your wrists in each hand and stretched your arms back. Holding them in the air so you couldn't use them. You tried to bend your elbows, flexed your fingers all confused, like you were solving a puzzle.

"No, sweet girl, you can't move. I got you. You're not going anywhere."

You melted at her words and instead of resisting, arching your back for more. She stilled her movements in wander, watching you move on her cock with your own slow, sensual pace.

"That's it. Oh, what a good girl. Look at you, so good. Yeah, baby. Just like that."

You tried to go faster, but couldn't do it alone. So she grabbed your hips again and picked up the pace. Spanking you, throwing your face back on the mattress. Fisted your hair and rubbed your clit to hear you scream again. You did everything in your power to crawl away.

"Where do you think you're going? Huh?" She cooed. Her hands wrapped around your panties and tugged on them, bouncing you back. She smiled at your helplessness "No, you're all mine, baby. I'll tell you when you're done. So you just stay there and take it. Take it like a good slut."

A string of pleas muffled on the sheets, you shoving your face into them. Just giving her an even better view of your ass. Her cock glistened in and out of your tight cunt.

"Is my slut going to come for me again? Huh?" She smacked your ass hard enough to sting like hell. Your high-pitched cry making her chuckle. "Huh? Do you need to cry when you come for daddy?"

"Fuck you..." Your voice broke. So that was a yes.

"Oh, you're done." She threw her body on you and trapped you under her, driving deeper this way. You had no way to move and screamed as you realized it. She covered your mouth with her hand. "Shut the fuck up and take it. You're going to take it and you're going to come like a whore."

Your tears spilled on your hand. Thighs wet with your cum. Of course, the poor girl was so overstimulated. But you wanted it. You had a safe word and wasn't using it.

She kissed your tense shoulders, going slower, but just as deep. "Shh, baby, take—Oh, fuck. Fuck, that's fucking good." She groaned in the crook of your neck as you moved your ass back on her.

She peeled away, needing to focus, and you little motherfucker giggled at her as if you knew. She couldn't believe it when you looked at her over your shoulder as if to say 'yeah, I did that to you.'

That's when she noticed the little spot of wetness on the pillow, right where your mouth was.

"Are you drooling? Aw, sweetheart. Does it feel that good?" Her voice became menacing, nails biting into your hips. Wiping your smirk right off. "Yeah? Does it feel that good? You want to come for me, baby? You want to come for daddy?" That's a good little whore, such a good girl."

"Oh my God, fuck!"

"Say it." She smirked at your failed concentration. "Say you're a dirty whore for this cock."

"No." You shook your head in defeat. Oh, you wanted to.

"Fucking say it." She growled out, fisting your hair back. Spanked your sore ass some more. She forced it out of you. You sobbed it, voice breaking, but orgasmed harder than she'd ever before.

Your screams drove her over the edge. She flipped you over and covered you with her cum. Thick and white stroked on your tits and belly as both heaved to catch their breath.

"Oh fucking hell..." Billie mumbled with a chuckle. You giggled, eyelids heavy, they both tried to do a high-five but failed miserably.

[tossawary]

The fun thing about Luo Binghe potentially NOT being pushed into the Endless Abyss at the Immortal Alliance Conference, imo, is that he's still a forcibly outed heavenly demon stuck in the middle of the cultivation world after a deadly invasion. There are so many different fun ways to play it.

So, Shen Yuan groggily wakes up and the first thing he sees is that traitorous asshole Shang Qinghua's relieved face and disheveled appearance. Ugh. And then first thing that the An Ding Peak Lord says is: "Wow, and I thought the System hated my ass. It had it OUT for you, bro."

What the fuck.

At which point, Shen Yuan sits bolt upright because what the hell happened? The last thing he remembers is not moving, the weight of the sword in his hand, the thunder of his heart in his ears, not being able to go through with it, hoping against all reason that this was all some sort of sick test and that the System wouldn't really-

"Where's Binghe?" Shen Yuan demands.

Shang Qinghua winces. "About that..."

And Shen Yuan's heart falls because Binghe ended up in the Endless Abyss anyway, obviously. There were apparently two transmigrators all along and neither of them could truly change the story.

"He got arrested for your murder and the invasion of the conference," Shang Qinghua says, scratching the back of his neck. "It was ugly. So ugly. I probably would have died if Liu Qingge hadn't shown up to put him down. The Palace Master is saying that this is obviously revenge for Tianlang-Jun's sealing and Yue Qingyuan has pretty much stopped talking-"

"What."

"Oh, you were super dead, bro, and the protagonist freaked the fuck out. I was there, so he started yelling about why I hadn't done something, irrational with grief and all that, it was pretty scary."

And Shen Yuan can see how a surprise heavenly demon kid would get blamed for his shizun's death and the invasion of the conference. There was nothing a drama liked better than an innocent person somehow caught red-handed in the middle of an inexplicable disaster.

"Wait, the invasion IS your fault!" Shen Yuan says, pointing an accusatory finger. He feels like shit still, but his righteous, trembling anger is going mostly in the right direction. "Why didn't you speak up-?"

"What, and I was going to admit to that in front of all of those peak lords and sect leaders? Get off my dick, bro."

"I meant blame Mobei-Jun!"

"Oh, yeah. They'd made up their minds, though! And shit got really violent really quickly! Liu Qingge is still itching to kill someone here, you know. Ask yourself why you're not still dead first, huh?"

That's an annoyingly good question. And Shang Qinghua annoyingly answers himself without waiting for an input.

"You're so fucking lucky that I've been here for like forty years now and I have so many useless points. Enough to pay off YOUR debt! They can be transfered, apparently? Be grateful! Anyway, I don't want the vengeful protagonist thinking that I hold any blame whatsoever in you fainting to death there, even if he is locked up in the Water Prison right now, so don't say I did nothing for you, got it?"

"...He's WHERE?!"

"Water Prison. He's going to be put on bullshit trial for the Immortal Alliance Conference and also for existing as a heavenly demon. Keep up, bro. Also," Shang Qinghua says with an urgent look over his shoulder, "you have to back me up when I try to explain to Mu Qingfang and Huang Qingheng that you were only mostly dead, they must have missed something, and I was just hanging around paying my respects when you miraculously recovered. I don't know anything! Ready to go?"

"No."

"Well, that fucking sucks for you. Let's go!"

[blood-smiles]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 ! 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃 (??)

❝ DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! ♡ This is yandere content, suggestive content ahead, you have been warned ! ♡ ❞

࣪ ִֶָ☾. What to do? You had to go back to schooling, even as much as you hated it.. You needed that god for saken diploma.

ִֶָ☾. This is how you ended up alone on your first day, you had hoped that a brave soul at campus would approach you. Like one of those super popular nice people approaching you and then boom! You became the next sensation at your college!

ִֶָ☾. You would be delusional if you thought a silly thing like that would happen.

ִֶָ☾. You wandered around campus aimlessly, in look for a new friend. You searched the crowd, looking for anyone as lonely as you were.

ִֶָ☾. Your eyes met a males' own sparkling indigo hues. Bingo.

ִֶָ☾. He returned your stare, his ears and face glowing in a subtle tone of red. You reminded yourself: Some people get nervous about eye contact! Yeah.. haha.. Totally!

ִֶָ☾. You smiled at him, asking nicely if you could have a seat at the table where he was, to which he eagerly nodded, scooting away the stacks and stacks of books he had.

ִֶָ☾. Math? Dude, really? So he's a mathematics major..? He chuckled nervously as he adjusted his thick rimmed glasses, noticing your eyes on the number filled textbooks.

"I'm Elio.. Is it your first day here?" The soft sound of his voice snapped you out of trying to decipher whatever hieroglyphics were printed on the paper.

ִֶָ☾. He lit up in happiness when you spoke your name. Okay.. Unique reaction to a normal piece of information.

ִֶָ☾. You took a closer look at his face, it seemed refined, like a dude who hit the books for fun. But you couldn't help but let your gaze drift to the piercing holes in his ears, no jewelry present but so so many piercings..

ִֶָ☾. His almost black hair gleamed in the light, an unmistakable dark blue undertone present in the silky strands. The bottom portion of his hair around his neck dyed a very light sky blue.

ִֶָ☾. These were small, extremely minimal details you wouldn't have picked up if it wasn't for your super duper brave choice of coming up to him and sitting down with him.

”Who is that talking to that prick over there..? By now he would have dumped soup on anyone..”

“I know, always so hostile for no reason! I wonder who pissed in his coffee..”

ִֶָ☾. Your ears pricked at the comments from the other table not too far away from you, Elio seemed nice though..? He didn’t toss food on you or even seem annoyed.

ִֶָ☾. He had noticed too, glaring out of the corner of his eyes, pitch black eyes narrowing in a malicious stare.

ִֶָ☾. These nobodies were soiling his chances with you already.. Not even an hour in and they were already gossiping and honking like a gaggle of geese.

ִֶָ☾. You cast your attention upon him again, taken aback by the soulless stare he directed at the small group of people next to you.

ִֶָ☾. Whoops. He hoped you didn’t see him like that for too long. He smiled nervously, his more timid persona coming back just like before.

“Your lesson is starting soon, I have a free period! I’ll go with you!” He sprung up from his seat, wrapping his arm around your own.

ִֶָ☾. You had so many questions. 

ִֶָ☾. How did he know that? And why was he getting so touchy already? You had barely been with him for an hour, yet he acted like he knew you since childhood..

ִֶָ☾. As the both of you passed by the shit-talking table, Elio ever so slightly turned his head, his arms hugging your bicep closer to his chest as he shot them the dirtiest look he could muster.

“Cmon, silly. We don’t want to be late.” Elio giggled as he dragged you away.

ִֶָ☾. Elio wasn’t normal, you had noticed. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just was quite… unique in his mannerisms. Quite the specimen!

Okay he is nerdy.. but why he kinda..

ִֶָ☾. Your suspicion of him not being what he appeared as at first was correct however. He really had more than what met the eye, you would have been a fool if you only thought that the ugly red and black flannel shirt he wore was all there was to him.

ִֶָ☾. You had stumbled upon him one day, lukewarm coffee in hand, some rushing scholar ran past you, like a cartoon character leaving fire tracks while speeding. They bumped harshly into your shoulder, knocking off your balance and uncapping your coffee, spilling all over your friend..

ִֶָ☾. You panicked, grabbing tissues in your hand and helping in patting down the ugly flannel in hopes of soaking up the drying coffee, you missed the way he gasped softly in surprise and a little of excitement. If you could touch him like that again he would’ve let himself get soaked time and time again.

ִֶָ☾. He flushed at the nimbe touch of your hand on his body, you mistook the embarrassment on his face for irritation and shrunk back in fear of the so called “mean” attitude many students muttered about.

ִֶָ☾. You had witnessed it, once you were running late and noticed a girl walking towards him, shifting her weight from one foot to another as she opened her mouth to talk.

ִֶָ☾. “ Don’t you understand? I don’t fucking care, I already have a lover. Stop looking at me like a kicked puppy, or are you deaf too? Well? Scram.” He rudely interrupted her speech, irritation radiating from him. And jeez. Was he scary, a dark shadow cast over his face, giving him even more of a menacing look. This was him? Was he really like this when you weren’t around? 

ִֶָ☾. The girl gasped, shoulders tensing as she began to cry while running away, head buried between hands. You stared at her as she dashed past you, mascara dripping down her blushed cheeks. Elio waved at you, as if nothing had happened.

ִֶָ☾. You grimaced at the memory and how horrible it would feel if you were in that girls’ shoes. Being publicly humiliated is one of the worst kinds of humiliation.

ִֶָ☾. You apologized a million times, he shook his head, offering a pretty smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Was he laughing at you..? He let out a little happy sigh, peeling the coffee drenched shirt from his torso.

ִֶָ☾. “Don’t worry, it’s alright. I have an extra shirt in my bag just in case.” He waved his hand dismissively, it’s no biggie for him. He almost thanked you for touching him, he might have gotten a nosebleed but by some unknown miracle he didn’t start bleeding on you.

ִֶָ☾. He dragged you into a classroom, unbuttoning his long sleeve and slowly slipping it off his shoulders. You were trying to NOT look but gods. Lord. Was it hard.

ִֶָ☾. It was like he was teasing you, wanting you to look and give into your perverted ways.

ִֶָ☾. You couldn’t stop yourself as you peeked at him, his back wasn’t turned as he focused on folding the dirtied shirt, but that didn’t stop you from looking.

ִֶָ☾. He had so many piercings. How? How would anyone guess he was so.. yum.

ִֶָ☾. His body was a perfect mix of slim and just the slightest bit of muscle, the dark metal balls surfacing from his skin and gleaming in the dim lighting.

ִֶָ☾. His soft chest rose and fell gently, his nipples decorated by dangling circular metal jewelry. His smooth navel adorned with another piece of black metal. the taut skin of his hips pierced with three little beads on each hip.

ִֶָ☾. Okay! Enough staring. Don’t look, don’t look, don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook!

ִֶָ☾. “(Y/N)? Can you pass me the shirt?” Right. Right! The black band t-shirt in your hands, you nodded wordlessly, fumbling with the fabric and gently passing it to him.

ִֶָ☾. “What’s wrong? You aren’t looking me in the eye.” He asked you, his voice holding an edge of teasing. You could hear the smile in his voice.

ִֶָ☾. He knew why.

“We..Well, I didn’t know you were the type of guy to have so many piercings..” you answered only one of his questions, you couldn’t let him know that now you perhaps had a puppy crush on him.

“Awh.. You’re so cute.. Never did I think I would be able to fluster you in such a way..” he cooed out of nowhere, moving to get closer to you.

“You can touch too you know..” Elio shyly added, grabbing you by the wrists and gently placing them over his waist.

“If it’s you, then I don’t mind at all. ♡”

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, mentions of blood, self injury, drugging, ooc writing,

Part 19: a rose by any other name…

🔹🔹🔹

The lights of the city are absolutely dazzling tonight from your vantage point, thousands of twinkling little dots all connected to another human in some way or another like a blinking map of souls. Gothams quiet tonight, or as quiet as Gotham can ever be anyways.

He actually decorated a little bit before dragging you up here, a blanket and cooler pack sat just under the ledge and he somehow shoved a small bouquet of black roses in the mouth of the gargoyle statue, you're so picking on him later for that one.

But right now you're just both sitting together on the blanket, shoulders bumping and thighs pressed together as you share a bottle of wine. Some vintage brand that probably costs more than two months of your rent, not that you care to think about it as the bitter liquid warms your throat.

He's already staring when you turn to pass it back to him, blown out pupils and an uncharacteristic smile on his clean shaven face, he says nothing but when he grabs a napkin to wipe at your face you feel his affection warming your cheeks more than the wine could hope to.

“You're gonna embarrass me if you keep looking like that.” You murmur softly as you turn away to hide a small smile into the plush fluff of your chunky sweater, even after so many nights spent like this it catches you off guard when he devotes his full attention to you. He's so…. Intense, his loves a heavy thing.

“How am I looking at you? I'm just enjoying the view.”

You huff softly at the softly spoken flirt and take the wine bottle back from him before he can even take his turn, not that he protests of course, you wouldn't have been able to wrestle it out of his grasp if he didn't truly want you to have it. “You look at me like you have a crush on me.”

It's Bruce's turn to huff softly and roll his eyes, his shoulder bumping into yours before he moves to sling an arm over your shoulder and pull you firmly into his side. “oh wow, how embarrassing for me.”

You can feel the grating dry sarcasm in his voice.

It makes you snicker softly as your head drops against his shoulder with a soft little thump, his arm tightens around you as he grabs the bottle back and takes a long drink, you lazily watch the way his Adams apple bobs before you speak.

“it's very embarrassing, yeah. You're lucky I love you enough to ignore how mortifying it is.”

“TT, do you ever get tired of this?” his voice takes on a much softer edge than you were expecting after the childish taunting, the arm draped around you tightens and you feel his thumb start to slowly rub circles into your shoulder.

You could say a lot, continue to poke fun at him, tell him being his bully is your favorite hobby, But instead you just answer plainly.

“No, I don't think I ever will.”

His arm tightens around you and he leans his head against yours for a moment, inhaling your scent before he straightens again and takes a long swig of the wine, you don't miss the way he shakily exhales before passing the bottle back to you. You've only seen Bruce show signs of nerves a few times throughout the time you've been dating. You like to think you know when he needs to be pushed to open up and when he needs to be left to his own devices by now so you don't question him.

“excuse me a second….” he murmurs gruffly as he suddenly extracts himself from you, you glance at him in confusion for a second as he twists and clambers back onto the rooftop and silently disappears around an air-conditioning vent.

He doesn't return immediately so you return to city-watching by your lonesome, the near perpetual clouds obscure the moonlight but the cities bright in it's own way regardless. You'd once teased Bruce relentlessly for how he spoke of the city, you likened him to a sailor reminiscing his sea-beast. Told him you weren't sure if he was a man devoted or enthralled, loved it divinely or unable to escape it's twisted hold on him. Yet you teased him for it no more, because to love Bruce was to eventually love the wretched city in all her glory.

After a few moments you're pulled from your quiet kinda drunk musings by Bruce's warm baritone behind you.

“I have….a question for you….” he sounds unusually…. Off, behind you. Though when you turn you see why.

You feel like all the airs been sucked out of your lungs when you see Bruce down on one knee with a little black box in his hand, his his entire demeanor is almost boyishly nervous as you lock eyes.

You're very quick to react. “Is-is this- are you?…” The words Tumble out so quick you're surprised you didn't slur them out, your hands start to shake when he nods a little too quickly. “This is happening?”

He again nods quickly. “Yeah this is happening…do you…?”

This time you're the one nodding as you turn fully and look down at him, you nearly drop the wine bottle right off the edge of the building in your nerves. “Oh God…. Oh God I love you…”

You never pictured yourself being proposed to, and you certainly didn't picture yourself starting to cry like a baby if you ever were.

Bruce is trying to be the calm one here so he let's you have your moment, don't get it wrong this is the most afraid he's ever been of fucking something up in his life, but he's trying for your sake.

“That's a yes…. Yeah?” He can barely finish his words before you're cutting him off. “Yes! Yes it's a yes!”

Bruce feels like he can breathe properly again as you nod and try to stumble up off the ledge, but he quickly stops you and, with badly shaking hands, he tries to put the ring he'd painstakingly picked out on your left hand. And by trying he nearly drops it twice before he gets it in there and then he finally lets you stand, he does too so he can quickly wrap his arms around you.

“…. You're really agreeing to marry me….” He murmurs disbelievingly even as you weep happily into his shoulder, like he can't quite grasp that you said yes. You never quite realized how little you've seen him shaken up until this moment, but it just makes it all the more human to you. Bruce Wayne is trying not to cry on you all because you said yes.

“Obviously…like it's a hard choice to make…” you bury your face in his shoulder but he quickly lifts your head back up, his hand sliding down to cup your cheek to keep you in place.

“Yeah…. But it is…. I've spent a long time thinking about this, calculated the risks, and I'd like you to do the same thing before we jump the gu-” you cut him off with a kiss before he can start rambling about why you shouldn't agree or why you should wait this out.

You don't care about the risks his life brings, you don't care if you're gonna be in harms way, in the moment all you care about is the fact that this man wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

🔹🔹🔹

You're a jumbled mess of confused emotions by the time you wake up and process that dream, the other you was…a fucking sap. And even worse? So was Bruce.

You thought you couldn't feel anymore lost and confused in this world, yet clearly you were wrong.

Stumbling to the bathroom on unsteady feet to flick the light on and stare at the mirror, the face staring back isn't yours as much as it is, even if you've added sunken bloodshot eyes and uneasy scowls. The difference is this was a face that was loved, not just needed but wanted. The thought sets off some fight or flight instinct in you and you quickly turn the lights off before you break the damn mirror.

The streets are cold at this hour, chills creeping up your fingers and numbing them painfully even after all the movement. All you can do is tuck your gloved hands tighter into your hoodie pockets as you keep going, the large mansion somehow felt too small, too stifling with too much emotion in the air. Or maybe it was just you running away from your problems that got you here.

The hum of an old neon open sign calls to you like a siren and the chills creeping up your legs compels you to crack open the old heavy door and peek inside carefully.

A twenty-four hour gym greets you, peeling paint reveals old crumbling concrete walls and bright lights give the place an odd air of uncanny, like the backrooms thing Peter once showed you, it'll do.

A slightly wary receptionist buzzes you in after you flashed a bill at them, a fake name rolling off your tongue easily. “Alex Stark, can I squeeze in for a few?”

It's a courtesy question more than anything since the place is quiet and obviously empty, the young receptionist nods boredly and pulls a sign-in sheet out, you change up your signature just to be safe and practically drop the pen to walk further into the gym.

The place smells a bit, like musk and a hint of bleach, At least there's alcohol wipe packs scattered around between the different pieces of equipment. Maybe you won't catch something here if you're careful.

You don't bother with any leg machines since you got more than enough cardio on the way here, so you go straight to the pull-up bar to do some warming up, hanging off the bar until your shoulders start to burn and your fingerprints feel like they're scraping off. Then you do some stretches on a mat, you can't resist it anymore and stroll over to the very thing that pulled you in here in the first place, the punching bags.

You don't have hand wraps but at the moment you don't care, you're pent up, trying to process emotions that are yours and yet aren't, your minds still a loud mess so you silence it, the first punch feels good as much as it stings and shocks your limbs.

This is…. You can't say better, but it's familiar. The sharp bite and dull reverberations up your wrists all the way to your shoulders makes you feel more alive than you've felt in months. There's only so much training you can do in a bedroom and you need to be at your peak. You hit and hit until your knuckles are dark, and then you kick and knee the bag until your already tired calves throb and your knees threaten to buckle, then you go back to punching. Not caring about the skin splitting and smearing tiny droplets of blood along the bag. Nothing a few wipes won't fix before you leave.

The doors open and you watch out of the corner of your eye as a hooded figure enters the gym, though they seem more interested in the treadmill than you so you continue doing your own thing.

“need a spotter?” at the soft call from behind you quickly turn and catch a green eyed woman staring at you, and for just a second your breath catches, picturing a different woman in her place. She looks earnest though and approaches you before you can rebuff her, she sets her hands on the bag and steadies it while leaning around it just enough to keep her eyes on you.

“you've got impressive form you know, like a boxer or something.” she sounds impressed as she follows your movements carefully, the small smile on her face growing more interested by the minute.

She's too immediately chatty for your liking, it just seems off for a stranger. “…thanks.”

“Don't mention it, I'm just glad I'm not the only one here. The place gets creepy sometimes.” she looks around at the slightly shitty conditions of the building pointedly, though her eyes don't leave your form for too long.

“the price we pay to come and punch things at any hour.” your tone is definitely snarky and you know it, not that you're in the mood to reel it in right now.

She only seems to grow more amused at your sarcastic response, she grunts under her breath and adjusts her stance to hold the bag better when it gently knocks into her, you're really going to town on it.

“price indeed, someone making you mad or something? You're treating this thing like it slept with your wife.”

She's clearly looking for conversation, persistent too. You decide to indulge her a bit since she's helping you out and giving you something to focus on. “No one in particular no, just having a week.”

“Mm, I know that feeling well.” You doubt she knows what you're feeling but oh well, she continues on while you keep abusing the punching bag. “Sometimes you just gotta get it out somehow y'know?”

She sounds far too cheery at this hour, you'd thought people in Gotham wouldn't know what friendliness feels like.

Your response is still dry as flour. “Mhmm, better a bag of sand than your spouse.”

She seems to brighten up at that, giggling deviously like you're her bestie giving her the gossip.

“Ooh sounds interesting, are they in the doghouse?” you can't help but roll your eyes a bit at the question, though it's more about you situation than at her. “More like we're in each other's doghouse honestly.”

She winces and whistles through her teeth. “oof, that's never a good thing…. You wanna talk about it or just beat this thing? Sometimes it's good to get this stuff off your chest.”

You shake your head at her offer and just keep wailing on the punching bag, this isn't something to tell a stranger. Hell you wouldn't talk to Rogers or Thor about this if they were here. No this is a you thing.

And that's how things continue on for a while, the gym is quiet other than the sound of your fists connecting with leather and the occasional grunt escaping your mystery named gym partner as she braces for your aggression. It's nice to not have to explain yourself or play stupid with someone, it puts you at ease almost strangely quickly even as your wounded hands smear flecks of blood about.

After a few moments the woman leans over again to catch your eye, her brows furrow as she stares down at your bruised and split hands and she grimaces slightly before she moves.

A manicured hand curls and drags across the surface of the punching bag as she shifts, suddenly flying out to grab a hold of your arm and pull your hand up to her face, near close enough for her blood red lips to touch your cracked and bleeding knuckles. her gaze drags up your arm and body like something heavy, thick lashes nearly cover grass green eyes when she catches your stare and for a moment you blank out.

“you should take a breather, hun.”she murmurs softly while stepping around the punching bag, your hand still in hers. “you look like you need to relax.”

for a moment your head feels cloudy, you don’t notice the cold or the exhaustion in your limbs anymore, you don’t feel the sharp sting in your knuckles and wrists or the bruise blooming on your knee, you can just focus on the warm weight of her hand wrapped around your wrist and the unbreaking stare of her hypnotic eyes.

It's when her thumb delicately swipes over your knuckles, smearing a drop of blood across the bruised skin do you react, it doesn't hurt like it should. This isn't right. Your skin erupts in goosebumps when you realize to your growing horror, you've somehow been drugged.

You roughly jerk your hand out of hers and move back, shit she got to you when you're already tired, why didn't you notice? It's like she dosed you with some kind of aphrodisiac, this woman's a threat.

To your suspicious surprise the redhead just giggles and backs away from you after you moved, amusedly crossing her arms across her chest like this was all just some silly prank she pulled. “Ooh, you're much more observant now.”

Your eyes narrow at that, so she knew you before huh. You were stupid to let her get close to you. “Just who are you.”

“you don't remember me? I'm a little hurt. After all the time we spent together…” she sighs wistfully while flicking a long curl over her shoulder, the smirk she doesn't even try to hide really kills her ‘morose’ tone.

“Who. Are. You.” You practically snarl while taking a wider stance, you're already exhausted, but you'll be damned if you won't fight like a hellcat if she makes a move.

Her arms drop to rest her hands on her hips and she giggles again, that fuzzy feeling in your head starts to return and you realize it must be coming directly from her, like she's breathing out the drug. “You're so abrasive now, you used to be so…soft, like a flower petal ready to be bruised. And here I thought marriage would break you...I think I like the little thornbush you've become, though. It suits you.”

You can practically hear your teeth grinding together as the woman keeps ignoring your question and taunting you with it, maybe you could make a dive for a dumbbell on the rack as she keeps talking…

“am I supposed to be intimidated by your little speech?” You huff out while straightening up, forcing yourself into a relaxed, yet annoyed stance, hands shoved in your hoodie and everything.

“You don't find me impressive baby?” She laughs and moves when you do, matching your movements when you edge closer to the weights rack.

“I find you creepy, wanna tell me what you drugged me with?” She pauses at that, one eyebrow raised as she looks you up and down from head to toe. “You noticed? And here I thought you were just playing hard to get before you'd start begging for a little affection.”

Her words make your gut twist at the sinister implications, you're just about ready to make a dive for a weapon when she continues her lament.

“…then again I was always the one chasing after you, wasn't i.”

She's staring right at you with an unreadable expression on her face, the blank expression just makes her look even more eerie, almost inhuman…

“…I still don't know what you mean, have we met before?” Your frustration builds at the lack of…well anything you're getting, that seems to be the norm in Gotham though.

Her head tilts and she almost looks frustrated with you before another emotion suddenly flickers across her face, she suddenly looks understanding as she straightens up and drops her hands from her hips. “You really did lose everything huh.”

“Yeah no shit Sherlock, wasn't that plastered all over the news enough?” just how does this woman know you? The thought of apparently being acquaintances with someone who apparently drugs people is…. Worrying to say the least.

“I had thought that was exaggerated to give your family some privacy, they seem to love every little chance for shields from the public after all. I wouldn't put it past them to use you like that.” she says nonchalantly while suddenly turning away from you and strolling over to one of the vending machines in the corner, you can only stare at her incredulously, she really just said something like that and then went to get a snack?

Your feet are near silent as you follow after her to continue your questioning. “Just what do you mean by that, is there something I'm missing here?”

She pulls a vitamin water out of the machine and turns to lean against it while cracking it open. “Why don't you ask them that.”

You want to choke her just a little bit.

“I'm asking you, since we're apparently old friends or something.”

She pauses, bottle halfway up to her mouth as she stares you down with a debating expression, lips twisting contemplatively before she speaks again. “….I don't know anything for sure, but I just know that when you got tangled up with them you suddenly weren't…. It's like you were suddenly afraid of Gotham in a whole new way, afraid of me. That hurt, especially after you taught me so much.”

She's still leaning casually but you don't miss the accusatory squint in her eyes as she takes a long drink, the hard clench of her perfect nails into the cheap plastic, she's either genuinely mad or good at faking.

You're even more confused now, what are you dealing with here? “…who are you?”

This time when you ask that she just sighs and starts to approach you, you tense but she just walks past you, only pausing to pat your shoulder and mutter in your ear. “I go by a few names these days, but you used to call me Pam.”

Then she strolls away with an innocent whistle, only saying one more thing before walking out of the gym room altogether.

“If you've ever got questions you should check out the park after dark, the forested part not that disgusting poisoned Earth part.”

And then just like that she's gone, the gym falls completely silent other than the faint hum of the heating unit in the ceiling.

🔹🔹🔹

You bought some basic medical supplies in a twenty-four hour convenience store and wrapped yourself up in the bathroom before getting back out on the street, the gauze and medical tape are clearly cheap quality but the astringent burned enough to know it's doing it's job on your fists.

Gothams even quieter now despite edging towards the break of dawn, without the shooting shouting and honking of horns you can almost appreciate the cities eccentric appearance as you walk back down the cracked sidewalks towards the edge of town. Or you would if your mind wasn't all jumbled up with confusion and paranoia anyways.

No one's mentioned an old friend named Pam but part of you is certain she was telling the truth about knowing you somehow. Those weren't the expressions of someone who's seen you on tv and wanted to have a go at a stranger. No those emotions were personal.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket and pulls you out of your theorizing enough to answer the call, already knowing who it was gonna be. “Hello.”

“(Name) Thank God! Where are you?” Bruce sounds terrified on the other end of the call, judging by the slight shuffling you hear he's pacing the floor.

Your voice is dead tired as you answer him, the mental and physical toll is this whole thing weighing heavily on you. “I'm….. In the city.”

“What? Where!? Are you alright?”

And just like that the guilt you've been carrying the entire time you've been here comes crashing back down on you when you hear the utter panic in his voice, he's scared for you.

“I'm okay…. Just needed to take a walk.”

He must hear something in your voice because he's quiet for a few seconds, you hear the slightest tremor in his voice as he exhales before he speaks. “…. Okay, i-I'm coming to get you. What street are you on?”

“Bruce I'll make it home on my own, you're going back to work today aren't you?”

He's quick to shut that down though, his voice much firmer than before. “Do you think I want you walking all the way from the city? Please, just tell me where you are before I go out blindly driving. Come on (name)….”

You know he knows he's won when you sigh tiredly into the phone, you don't want to talk about all of this right now but you just know he might actually look for you, he's clearly already checked through the manor if he knows you walked.

“…. I'm next to a 7/11 that's across the street from a bank in-”

“I know where that's at the kids go there all the time, I'll be there in ten. Please don't wander off…”

You're weirdly tired by the time you get off the phone, maybe the restless sleep is finally catching up to you, or maybe it's a lingering effect of whatever you are dosed with, but right now you just want to curl up in your bed and sleep for the rest of the week. You're so tired of the lying and games…

🔹🔹🔹

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A/n: lol I spent the longest time on the dream scene, 👁️👄👁️ it's been days because IDK how to write romance yet 😭 but anyways I hope y'all enjoy and have a lovely day/night and pls remember to take care of yourselves! 💞💞💞

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[ragana62]

Hermione doesn't break rules openly, because she knows that having the aura of following rules means that when someone starts looking at the trio for who was responsible for all the laws broken, she will be written off on principle. She knows that being the responsible one gives her protection, and it gives all of them an escape route should things go badly.

I have always held it as a survival tactic. It's Hermione knowing that nobody even notices the quiet, polite, bookworm in the corner who just keeps her nose down and always turns in her work, with extra credit, perfectly complete a day early at least. The magical world is a dangerous place, she doesn't know anyone there at the start, and the people she does know have made clear to her on observation that even for those the magical world doesn't hate on sight, there's not much of a guarantee of help coming much less help that can do much of anything in the face of some of the opposition. She needs to fade into the background, because being in the spotlight is a target, and if she is going to take the spotlight, it needs to be for something positive like her academic work where she can still be written off as 'one of the good ones'.

And... it works. First year Hermione can walk up to multiple professors and say 'It's my fault, I read about trolls and thought I could stop it before it hurt anyone, they were just helping me' and every last one of them just nods and says 'yes, that seems perfectly plausible, good job boys, perhaps we don't do that again Hermione'. Second year Hermione already knows how to brew multiple NEWT level highly controlled potions and can steal the ingredients to make them, brew the potions in broad daylight, and turn up into the hospital wing when one goes wrong looking like a were-cat, and it raises no questions. The assumption is that she was just trying to work ahead and made a mistake, it absolutely wouldn't be that she stole ingredients to knock students unconscious and stick them into a closet so her friends could break into another house's common room while impersonating them. We see the pattern time and time again.

Hermione doesn't openly break rules, so her teachers, her peers even, don't look at her when a rule is broken, and more than that, if something goes wrong in the pursuit of breaking rules, she can bullshit her way out of it with little more than a 'oops, I was just really excited to try something new I learned and it went a little wrong, I'm sorry' and the problem goes away. And that's exactly why she feels confident she can get away with putting Rita in a jar, or stealing books from Dumbledore's office after sixth year, or any number of other things. Because she already has gotten away with things like that, and quite frankly, even if she does get caught, all she has to do is say 'I'm sorry, I was just really interested in some new reading material and didn't think he would mind since it was to help Harry...' and McGonagall will ignore it, or 'She broke the law, look, unregistered animagus! I was just trying to be responsible and help, especially with all the bad things happening around the tournament, you don't think she might have something to do with that, do you?' and everyone will just say 'ah yes, Hermione was just trying to enforce the rules and got a little overzealous, this is why we're going to make you a prefect. Maybe we need to put a little more thought into how we do that next time, okay? In the magical world, we tell an adult these things, instead of just jumping straight to trying to catch the perpetrator ourselves.'.

(I also think this is why Dumbledore is so confident in just saying 'two turns, you can save them both, have fun kids' and knowing she will know what he means. He has a rather similar understanding that appearances will always matter more than actions when it comes to consequences, even if I don't always agree as much with the actions he chooses to use appearances to cover over, and I think he recognizes that in her as well.)

i love how hermione has such a rule following aura that everyone ignores that she is the real rule breaker of the trio. harry sneaks out at night sometimes. hermione straight up kidnapped a whole woman and held her prisoner in an enchanted jar. even tom riddle didn't do that.

[angelltheninth]

HELLOOOO GOOD MORNNNNNN (even if its prolly not morning there) huge fan, love your hoyo posts LOVE UR WRITING IN GENERAL!!!!!!!! feel free to ignore if ur not taking any reqs rn but i wanted to know your take on the batboys having a meet-cute with their s/o!!! hope u have a good day btw 🫶

I'm so glad you enjoy my writing. Really makes my day.

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Reader

Tags: fluff, meet-cute, flirting, difference of opinion, banter, dancing, pets

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I thought it would be funny to give them something more normal rather than the regula superhero things.

DICK GRAYSON

You meet him at the local dog shelter. Both of you want to adopt the same dog and neither of you want to back off. Dick is pretty well built and argues that he would take the dog out on walks a lot more than you, but on the other hand you live in a bigger house with a backyard so the dog wouldn't need to be cooped up in an apartment while Dick does, whatever he does for a living. When you hear he already has one dog you tell him then it's only fair that you get this one. The only way to settle this is to let the dog choose. And the dog chose you, much to your apparent rival's disappointment. Well since you both have a dog now, perhaps luck will have it and you'll meet at the park. He looks like a fun dog dad.

JASON TODD

Jason was someone you saw a few times at the bar that you both frequent. You never approached him before, despite really wanting to, so he approached you first. He called you out on staring at him like some pervert, and if you claim you're not then you should have no problem dancing with him. One dance isn't gonna kill you, or maybe you're a horrible dancer and you're hiding it. Well he might be an asshole, but you're the one who's been eyeing him ever since he stepped into the bar. So he gets to tease you for tonight. All he wants actually, since it's so fun to watch you blush. In exchange for being your dance and drinking buddy for the night, how about you repay him with a date.

TIM DRAKE

Tim and you go to the same classes at college so you see each other pretty often, or whenever he shows up actually. You never talked much, outside of when you needed to, you just knew of each other, more than knowing each other. In fact the first time you first talked to each other, for a long period of time, was in the library when you were both looking for the same book. Since you both had project deadlines and he was too busy at night, for some reason, you agreed to work on your projects in the afternoons. As it turns out he's a pretty nice guy, not at all the rich loner you thought he'd be. Not only that but he is very helpful when it came to your own project. So helpful in fact that you had to ask him on a date to thank him.

DAMIAN WAYNE

He really likes books and proving that he has better taste and understanding than anyone else. So of course you get into a debate with him over the book you read for this months book club. Damian is loud and has plenty of opinions, you and everyone else will hear them out regardless if you want to or not. This your first time seeing him at your book club so he has to be new and already making enemies. Of course you knew who he was, his last name was a dead giveaway, but just because his dad is one of the richest men in Gotham doesn't mean he gets to be rude. A fight almost breaks out between you two but he has a smirk on his face the whole time, a rather cute smirk. Part of you hopes that he'll show up to the next meeting.

[oceansssblue]

Pantie thief silco

🤣 here goes a little fun one.

Xx, Sky.

(Still taking silco requests, really easy rules in my profile)

PANTIE THIEF – SILCO/READER

WARNINGS: SILCO STEALING UNDERWARE LIKE A CREEP, ALCOHOL. 💖

Silco would'nt indulge anyone else like this. He would'nt allow any of his men the pleasure of getting wasted at the expense of his alcohol; and he wouldn't have the decency to take care of anyone else but you. Like Jinx, you had managed to slip undetected through his carefully constructed defenses all the way into his heart; and now, Silco finds himself carrying an armfull of a very drunk woman up the stairs towards his bedroom.

The two of you aren't together. Yet. Though Silco is perfectly aware of his feelings towards you, and he trusts you as much as he thinks he is able to trust anyone at this point in his life, he is still somewhat hesitant to make a move. Both because he isn't sure about your own feelings towards him and because he doesn't really... He doesn't really do this. Date –more than a casual fuck–. Have a partner. He doesn't like stepping into the unknown; so he's got no rush.

It's still clear the relationship between you isn't exactly just friendly. There's this energy simmering below the surface; this... carefull expectancy. Rumours, too; as Silco's behaviour around you hasn't been unnoticed either. It can't be; for the second time this month, he's carrying you like a ragdoll up to his bedroom, grunting under his breath at the effort of climbing the creaky stairs with the aditional weight on his knees.

As soon as he sets you down on his bed, you start clawing your clothes off; a task amusingly difficult for your half sleeping, half drunk state. Silco tries not to watch your grumpy effort to get under the soft covers; but it's not an easy thing to do. He's hard –the first glimpse of your smooth naked skin already enough– and he's atracted to you. And you're now completely naked in his bed, twisting around so that you can sink your face into the pillow and inhale. You mumble and sigh, muscles relaxing under the covers, and Silco throbs at the knowledge that is his scent what caused that. Or a promise of a good night's rest.

You fall asleep, and Silco lingers in the bedroom picking up the disaray of your clothes from the floor and putting them into a pile to ease the headache you'll surely have tomorrow. He hovers in place when his fingers close around a black, lacy, pantie; groaning at the thought of seeing you in it. It's almost too pretty to belong to the Underground. He wonders if you only use it on special ocasions –he doubts it's comfortable to wear in any of your spy misions–; and if that's the case, why is he the only man to be lucky to see it. Perhaps you really weren't waiting for anyone else.

He's not proud of it –he doesn't feel guilty either, though, after all, you're invading his space– but he takes it. He pushes it into the safe private darkness of his pocket and leaves the room, resigned to spend the night twisting around in the sofa of his office.

The pounding headache you wake up with the next day quickly reminds you of the –admitedly– too large amount of alcohol you had ingested the night before. You groan all the way through getting dressed, frowning at not finding your underware but too tired to worry about it. You exchange a few words with Silco on your way out –relieved and gratefull that he had been considerate enough to let you crash in his private rooms once again and mortified at the same time–, and return home to shower and go about your day.

You find out all about the dissapearance of the one particular item of your clothing a few days after that. It's just another working day, and you're leaving a stack of business papers on the drawer of Silco's desk when a bunch of suspicously familiar lace calls your attention. Surprised and confused, you grab the fabric and examin it; confirming your initial suspition. It is your pantie. What the hell is Silco doing with this?

As if summoned by your thoughts, Silco chooses that exact moment to pop out of his bedroom, walking down the stairs towards his office in a dark wine red shirt that makes your mouth water. His eyes –still holding a trace of sleep–, inmediately fall upon you; eyebrow silently arching in question at your unexpected visit.

You raise up your hand to show him your discovery with an expectant pop of your hip to the side. Silco's expresion morphs from surprise to recognition to a sort of careless guiltiness. He shrugs as if this were a daily occurence –and a totally normal thing– and you can't help but laugh.

"You fuckin' sociopath" you chuckle while he approaches you. "I was wondering where the hell did my underware go".

Silco stops right in front of you and hums uncomitedly.

"You have a tendency of getting naked when drunk, it seems" he replies with a deep, calm tone.

You tilt your head to study him.

"If you liked me, you could have just told me, you know" you decide to risk it, though you hate to be vulnerable. "Surely it isn't a secret I have a crush on you by now".

Silco can't mask the sincere surprise that travels through his face quick enough. He smirks, then, a single side tug of his lips that shouldn't look that attractive –but it does–.

"I see" his eyes roam through your figure in a sugestive way with undeniable interest. "Come back to my office after work then, darling, and I shall compensate you for my cruel robbery".

The promise of a good time with this man sends a rush of excitement through your veins; and you give him a single firm nod with a victorious grin on your face.

THE END.

[gh0stly-mp3]

Hear me out... Lavinho hcs.... Jwudjs just anything lavinho pls I'll take it

Hii! I finally had time to do your suggestion, classes started so I didn't have time for anything. I loveeee Lavinho with all my heart, thank u! I have soo much things in mind

in the brazilian style -> hcs

aka: no jeitinho brazuca de ser

lavinho x gn!reader / lavinho hcs

synopsis: things i imagine lavinho doing as a brazilian in japan + other fun things he'd do in bllk

tags: lavinho hcs, crack/funny, brazilian memes, lavinho having the ultimate brazilian spirit

warnings: words in pt-br (w translation), mature language, don't take anything said personally

a/n: i had so much funny doing this! sending love to all my brazilians out there (i'm from sp, what about ya'll?)

masterlist.

Lavinho would definitely be stared at a lot because he speaks and laughs to loudly, but he seem to don't notice it at all. He'd look at you and go like:

- "Hey, xuxu [cutie]! This city lights are fucking awesome! Those match my hairstyle!"

- "Yeah, they do, but can you be a little quieter, people are staring" - You'd respond

- "Opa [opss], sorry! I forgot that you gringos are too quiet"

He'd get as much souvenirs he could put in his suitcase so he could put all of them in his collection when he got home. He has fridge magnets, keychains, trinkets, etc

He'd complain all the time about the lack of beaches, sun, bars and noise. It pisses him of when he's in Brazil, but he often misses it

Lavinho would also complain about the japanese dress code, where people look at him weirdly for wearing shorts, a t-shirt stuck to the body, chains and rings and a juliet (a type of glasses)

He loves to discover new places in the countries he visits, so he'd beg you to show him the most unusual places in Japan, places where the majority of tourists wouldn't go

He'd go to a bar and start discussing politics with some random people, more specifically, brazilian politics

- "You know, our last election was very fierced, Lula against Bolsonaro. Do you know Bolsonaro?"

- "Uh? Bolsonaro?"

- "Yeah! Say "Foda-se o Bolsonaro [screw/fuck bolsonaro]!"

- "Foda-se Bolsonaro?"

- "YEAH! JUST LIKE THAT!"

Lavinho would talk shit about São Paulo to whoever he could, saying that Rio de Janeiro is way better. And he'd get so angry in the process he'd start speaking in portuguese

- "Lá o céu é cinza, porra! Cinza! Eles não tem praia! Eles são uns fodidos! São Paulo é uma merda! [The sky there is gray! Fucking gray! They don't have beaches! They're arrogant fuckers! São Paulo sucks!]"

Lavinho would occasionally bring up some brazilian thing that no one knows like its the most normal thing ever. Some examples are:

- "Oh, so he's just like Virginia with social midia, got it"

- "This boy Shidou looks like he'd go on Rin just like Datena did to Marçal with that chair. Bam!" - He'd say while immitating Datena

- "Bachira, your friend Isagi looks just like Nazaré Tedesco in that meme"

- "Menó [bro], that goalkeeper looks just like et bilu. That dude is like a folclore creature"

- "You know, I grew up in favela Santa Maria, close to the laje do [slab of] Michael Jackson"

When Barcha starts loosing he yells: "C'mon! Brasileiro não desiste não [brazilians don't give up]!

He constantly mocks the way Ego speaks, doing a poor japanese accent and posing just like him. He'd do the same to Noa, but with a mocking french accent instead

Lavinho would teach each Barcha player how to celebrate their goal in brazilian style, showing them videos of Neymars, Ronaldinhos, Vini Jrs and Gabigol poses

He'd teach his whole team how to sing and dance to his favorite brazilian songs (mostly funk) and would let Bachira wear one of his juliets and take a lot of pics

He wouldn't believe that other countries don't use whatsapp, like, where do you guys even talk? He finds that really weird {i do too}

[decreare]

Dyed Blonde

Weiss: Oh My Oum! Yang: I can explain? Weiss: Well I didn't expect this when I when I needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Tell me Xio-Long what ARE you doing then? Yang: Well I uh- Weiss: Because I can tell you what I THINK you are doing! It appears that you were never a natural blonde! Otherwise you wouldn't be in the tub touching up your raven-black roots! Yang: Tenses D-don't tell Ruby- Weiss: Your SISTER doesn't know?! How long have you been keeping up this farce Xio Long Yang: Before she was born... A choking silence falls between them Yang: My M-mom, Ruby's birth mom, showed me how... Weiss: Well then, I know how troublesome dying so much hair can be. Hand me that brush! Yang: What? Weiss: You owe me Xio Long After the process... Yang: I'm going to bed Weiss: Stop right there Xio Long! You still owe me! Yang: Listen Weiss I appreciate the help but I've been doing this for years- Weiss: Oh I'll help you alright! You big-titted cow! I just want to secure your end of the deal! Yang: Right... and what do I owe you hm? Weiss: I-uh cuddles? Yang: Weiss Cream wants cuddles? How do I know I won't melt you away~ Weiss: Oh shut it and get on my bed, I'll meet you there Yang: Oh? Who knew Snow Princess could be so forward! Well, what are you waiting for~ Weiss hugs the older girl, Yang couldn't help but pet her hair Yang: So this is what you wanted huh? Weiss: Yang I swear to Oum if you make fun- Yang: No, I get it Weiss: W-well good! And you shound't pet a Schnee! Yang: Want me to stop? Weiss: Gods no! They both soon fall asleep. With Yang's arms wrapped around Weiss's body while Weiss's head rested on top Yang's bosom Ruby: On one hand I'm jealous that Weiss is in my spot but on the other hand I'm happy my Sister and Bestie are getting along! Wah, I still want my morning cuddles dammit! Blake: I never could imagine a Schnee being affectionate... And who's to say we can't do the same? Ruby: Does that mean I get to touch your cute kitty ears!? Blake: ... If you are going to do that, you better not pull on them... Ruby: Oh relax Zwei never complained! Blake: ... Alright then... Later... Glynda: Where is team RWBY!?!? Nora: Renny why didn't we stay in bed! You love my hugs Pyrrha: I wish I could get Jaune to cuddle me... Jaune: What? Nora: Oh Jaune-Jaune gives the BEST hugs! You just gotta ask him! Pyrrha: R-really?

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"We need cash." Two, Soda, Steve, Dallas, Pony, 'n Johnny crowd the living room in a loose circle like mourners at a funeral. Between them, the shattered, stacked, 'n swept together corpse of what had once been their TV.

"We? Ain't my fault it's broken." Dallas kicks at a shard of glass 'n Pony narrows his eyes at him. "Blame it on the kid 'n call it a night."

"Hey!" Pony stomps a foot before he can catch himself, crosses his arms. "It wasn't me!"

Steve scoffs, rolls his eyes. Pony's face darkens murderously. "Was too."

"No, it was not! You were the one who fuckin' threw me!" Soda 'n Two's eyes ping pong back 'n fourth between the two of them.

"Did not! 'N if I did it was only 'cause you started the fight."

"Bullshit!" Pony's voice hits a shrill high note 'n Steve smirks at him, self-satisfied. "I only started it 'cause you were fuckin' callin' me names you asshole."

"Well, I wouldn't have been callin' you names if you hadn't been actin' like a brat." Pony lets out an indignant wail 'n Soda has to fly across the group to snag him by the waist so he doesn't start right back up again.

"Ok, ok. Enough you two." Pony writhes around like a fish on a hook for another moment before Soda jabs him in the ribs 'n he howls but stops fightin'. "This isn't solvin' our problems."

"I don't see how this is an us problem." Dallas tries again, hooks an arm around Johnny's shoulder 'n pulls him close. "I just got here, Johnny wasn't involved, 'n neither was Two. Soda bites the bullet for not stoppin' 'em 'n Darry can string the idiots up as he so pleases. What's the problem?"

Steve 'n Pony both turn on him, united for the first time that afternoon, fingers pointed 'n accusin'. "'Cause Two was bettin' on us-"

"Hey! Look, all's fair 'n love 'n war or whatever they say. Nobody asked ya to start rumblin' in the livin' room of all places."

"Yeah, 'n Darry'll love to hear that." Steve grabs his hip, wags a finger in a pretty damn passin' imitation of Darry. "Two-Bit Mathews you're how old now? Glory God almighty when are you gonna get any sense- OW!" Steve hollers at the comic Two's rolled up 'n thumped him over the head with.

"Ok, Ok fine. But I wasn't fuckin' bettin' against myself!" Two glares pointedly at Soda who rocks back 'n forth on his heels, suddenly findin' the floor real interestin'.

"Soda!" Steve stops nursin' his head to glare at Soda with wide eyes.

"Hey! Look! I'm sorry!" He blinks, tries his best tip-earnin' grin. "It was all on you, Stevie."

"SODA!" Pony whips on him quick as quick, quiverin' with as much indignance 'n outrage a fourteen-year-old can manage. Soda swallows back a snort, grabs Pony's face in his hands. "I'm sorry-"

"Well. Tough shit for y'all. But I don't see what this has to do with me or Johnny 'n I'm of the mind to beat it before Darry gets home 'n raises hell."

"Uh, Dal." Johnny clears his throat 'n tries to ignore the pointed stares of the rest of the gang hot on his face, runs a hand up the back of his neck, blows out a long breath. "IhadfiftycentsonPonyboy."

"Johnny!" Dallas drops him but doesn't sound half as annoyed as he does impressed.

"Well at least someone was in my corner-" Pony shoots Soda an aggravated glance 'n Soda throws his hands up placatingly.

"Yeah, speakin' of which." Two whips his hand out, palm up, 'n makes a grabbin' motion. Both Soda 'n Johnny huff but reach in their pockets 'n pull out quarters, dumpin' into Two's waitin' hands. He hoots his laughter 'n shoves the dollars' worth of change into his pants.

"Wait, who were you bettin' on Two?" Steve crosses his arms at the same time Pony plunks his hands on his hips, both glarin' accusingly.

"Me? I wasn't playin' for neither of ya! I bet y'all were gonna break somethin'!" Two cracks himself up, howlin'. It doesn't last for long 'n Pony 'n Steve turn succinctly on him, draggin' him down to the floor 'n landin' jabs wherever they can reach.

"Good lord. Well, y'all have fun with that one. I'm peelin' outta here."

"Oh no you don't." Soda catches one hand deftly in the collar of Dallas' jacket as he turns to leave, hefts him back. "You even think about wormin' outta this I'll tell Darry about that time you smoked all that pot 'n threw up 'n I had to carry a bowl a soup down to Buck's for your scrawny ass."

"Yeah, or that time you got picked up for shopliftin' 'n when the cops called I picked up the phone 'n never told Dar." Steve pauses in his onslaught of Two-Bit to throw his hat in the ring. The moment he's not focused Two wriggles out, flips him easily onto his back.

"Or that one time with Tim-"

"OK. Goddamn! No wonder Darry's goin' grey. Y'all are enough to send a man to an early grave." Dallas scowls 'n throw his hands up, shakin' Soda off. "So what now?"

"Now we need cash." Two says plaintively 'n they all stare down at the wreckage again.

"Ok. Thanks, genius." Steve rolls his eyes, clambers back to his feet, offers Pony his hand 'n hauls him up. "What are we lookin' at here? Like what? Twenty bucks?"

"Twenty bucks? Steve, what world do you live on where a TV is twenty goddamn bucks?" Dallas toes at the the box 'n it sparks. "Jesus Christ, none of you unplugged it? Hurry up 'n yank the plug out before we gotta by Dar a new house too."

Both Soda 'n Johnny dive for the cord 'n Johnny pulls up at the last second so they don't crack their heads together.

"So what, like fifty?" Pony 'n Soda exchange a glance, avert their eyes.

"Uh, try more like eighty, man." Soda plops down on his ass, looks desolately at the hunk of plastic 'n glass again.

"EIGHTY? Guys. We're dead. More than dead. Dar's gonna kill us, bury us, 'n then dig us back up again." Steve chews at his thumbnail, paces quick back 'n forth.

"Naw, Steve. Be realistic." Two grins, stuffs his hands into his pockets. "He'd never go through all that work for us. I think just killin' us the first time around'll do it."

Pony groans, presses both his palms into his eyes 'n collapses back into the armchair. "Not funny, Two."

"Aw, not even a lil-" He's cut off by the throw pillow Steve beams at his head, hittin' him square in the face.

"Man focus. We got cash, right?" Dallas refocuses the room, looks at them each in turn. The silence is answer enough, the celin', floor, 'n walls becomin' real fascinatin'. "Man, y'all've got to be jokin'. Steve, don't you have some money from the DX or your da put away?"

"Uh, well, no. Not really. Kinda, uh, lost it. All." He twiddles the bottom of his vest between his fingers, refuses to look up.

"Whatta ya mean lost it?"

"Look you lose one goddamn drag 'n suddenly everyone's crawlin' up your ass! How was I supposed to know that? 'N hey, what about you, Two? I don't hear you offerin' anythin' up."

"Ha! What money? I didn't have anythin' to start with don't look at me. Ask Soda, he's employed."

Soda throws his hands up guiltily. "Don't look over here. I got six bucks to my good name."

"Yeah, good 'n broke-" Soda pulls a face 'n kicks Dallas hard in the shin before he can duck outta the way.

"Where'd your paycheck go, Soda?" Johnny prods at him with his foot 'n Soda playfully catches it, yanks at him.

"Hey, I keep the lights on in this place!"

"And the rest of it?" Johnny pulls back 'n, when he realizes Soda ain't lettin' up, reaches down to jab at the ticklish spot on Soda's ribs.

"What? A man can't be afforded a lil' fun?" Soda yowls 'n drops his foot, wrigglin' backwards to get away. "How was I supposed to know a guitar was twenty-five bucks?"

"Soda!" Pony's jaw drops open. "You can't even play!"

"Hey! Yet! Gimme some credit! Plus I don't wanna hear anythin' from mister no job over there." Soda crosses his arms dramatically but he's grinnin' the whole way 'n all of them know he doesn't mean it.

"That ain't fair! Darry won't let me get a job. 'Course I don't got no goddamn money. Look at Dal. He's got a job!"

"First of all, I didn't even break the fuckin' TV. Second of all, how much money I got is none of your damn business." Dallas scowls, turns his nose up. Steve groans, drops down to the couch with his head in his hands.

"God so we're all broke."

"Hey-!"

"Shut up, Dal." Two cuts him off 'n Dallas' shifts his glare, damn near murderous. "Johnny Cakes?" He tries, weakly hopeful.

"Uh, I got three bucks." Soda quirks an eyebrow up 'n Johnny plops his hands on his hips.

"Where did you-"

"Ya gonna ask questions or are ya gonna take it?" Soda studies him for a moment, arms crossed still 'n doin' a cartoonish impression of a fussin' hen.

"Boys, we got a real hood among us here today." He hoots 'n Johnny kicks him in the hip, both of them still howlin'. "So that brings us up to, what?"

"Uh, nine bucks. Ten if someone can wrestle that change outta Two's pocket." Pony leans forward, elbows on his knees, 'n sizes Two up like he stood even a single chance.

"Man. I want lillies at my funeral. Can I put that out there? Should we do last rites now or-"

"Aw, hush up, Steve. Look, we just gotta scrape together a little money before Dar gets back. We can get, uh, what was it?" Soda frowns, counts absently on his fingers.

"Seventy more bucks." Pony dead pans 'n Soda's self-assured smile wavers a bit.

"C'mon, that's nothin'! We just gotta put our heads together." Soda climbs to his feet, rubs his hands together in thought. "How do we get our hands on some quick cash?"

Dallas 'n Two open their mouths 'n Soda throws out an accusin' finger to each of them. "'N nobody's doin' nothin' illegal 'cause if Dar has to pick one of us from the station before he comes home to no TV he's gonna start inventin' cruel 'n unusual punishments, y'hear?"

Dallas rolls his eyes 'n mutters 'n Two nods absently in agreement but they both don't offer any other ideas. "Anythin' else?"

"Uh, pawn shop?" Pony offers.

"Yeah, great idea, Pone. Anyone have any expensive jewelry they've been keepin' back?" Steve drawls, dryly, apparently resigned to his fate.

"Well, it ain't mine but I got, uh, a Singer we could sell." Dallas leans back in the doorway, waits for the onslaught of questions. They don't disappoint.

"A Singer? Dal, you've been watchin' me hafta hand hem 'n you had a Singer?" Soda howls, goes to kick him in the shin again but Dallas is prepared this time 'n dodges it.

"Where the hell did you get a Singer-?"

"Why-?"

"Look! It was Sylvie's, right? When I kicked her out she didn't get the chance to take it or nothin'. It ain't mine." He throws his hands up defensively, eyes Soda still standin' close enough to wallop him if he decided to. Soda glares back like he's still makin' up his mind about goin' for round two.

"Aw, man. We can't pawn off Sylvie's stuff." Johnny backs outta the way as Soda decides to give it another go 'n jabs at Dallas. "She mighta been a lil' mean but she don't deserve to have her shit sold off."

"The bitch- Soda get offa me- two-timed me? Remember?" Dallas knocks Soda's hands deftly away 'n Soda sneaks in on more solid kick before retreatin'.

"Oh, yeah." Johnny rocks back 'n forth on his heels, still clearly uncomfortable with the whole idea.

"Maybe Soda 'n Steve could pick up some extra shifts for a bit?" Pony tries again, clearly not as willin' as Steve to lie down 'n take his medicine.

"Yeah, another winner, Pone. 'N when Darry comes home to no TV tonight?" Steve scowls at him 'n Pony glares back, the two still dangerously close to another all-out scrap.

"Well, at least I'm comin' up with somethin'."

"Doesn't help if it's all stupid-"

"Alright you two, knock it off. We can't afford to have to buy anythin' else y'all broke 'cause y'all can't keep your traps shut." Two cuts in 'n they both round on him, glarin'.

"Look who's talkin'!" Steve mutters 'n Two grins 'n flips him off.

The laughter 'n bickerin' trail off, lapsin' into silence again. Each lookin' guiltily at the disaster, eyein' each other. "Well, uh, is anyone not above beggin'?" No one says anythin' 'n Two clicks his teeth, nods. "Yeah, didn't think so."

"Hey, guys." Six heads turn to look at Pony, suddenly ashen 'n lookin' past them up at the clock in the kitchen. "Is this a bad time to tell y'all Dar told me to tell y'all he'd be home early this afternoon?"

"Pony." Steve flies to his feet, grabs Pony by his shoulders. "How early?"

Somehow, Pony manages to pale even further. "Uh. In like. An hour?"

As if it had heard, the TV hisses, flashes, lets out one final death rattle 'n falls silent so it's just the seven of them, eyein' each other like men at the gallows.

"Dallas?" Johnny gives himself a shake, grabs his jacket from the back of the sofa.

"Yeah, man?"

"Let's get your girlfriend's stuff."

[pricegouge]

an increase of interest and sweet, encouraging asks and also these posts (i, ii) have led me to do the unthinkable: write a little extracurricular for haul, can you even believe it?

went in a bit of a different direction here. i've gotten a lot of asks about past victims and while i don't really wanna get too bogged down in the specifics of their time with the boys, i thought it might be fun to see how different price is from simon when he's hunting so. here's a different doll not knowing what's good for her.

cw: prostitution, coercion, kidnapping. implied murder. unedited cause i'm freaking out to be touching this again lmao. MDNI

You know something's wrong with him. Beyond the pale, beyond the knowledge you could never introduce him to your mother. That you're used to, well-versed at. It's something worse, something unsettling. something that clings to you long after he leaves, the very cells he sheds infecting, spreading.

Within and without.

You'll be like on of his soon if you're not careful - that pack of rabid dogs that follow him. It disturbs you, how easily you can see yourself among them sometimes, glinting eyes and too-sharp teeth. One more desert predator, runt of the pack and yet a par of it.

Better never to know. Better to leave it like this - small doses. Better to let him fuck you in a truck stop shower so you can scrub yourself clean after, pretend you remain unchanged by him. Ignore all the evidence suggesting otherwise, the undeniable ache and the trail of come he always leaves to trickle down your thigh.

You should know better, but it's hard to remember when his thick cock is driving up into you in one slow drag, splitting you open cruelly just to hear you cry about it.

He like them, your tears. Too much, probably, but you like the drag of his tongue on your cheek too, hot even in the tepid spray of hard water. You feel the rough scrape of his beard at your temple and wonder - is he actually infectious, or were you always predisposed? Was this something you were always capable of? Letting a customer add your services to their tab? Take you out back with their to-go bags and their travel-sized toiletries? You like to think nit, like to blame John and that strange quality of his, the way he can somehow manage to make you feel less-than and wanted for it all at once, sells you some unspoken promise of betterment if you just play along.

You sweat you know better, but you've said that before. It's how you wind up back here, always back here, his bulging bicep wrapped around your throat as he grunts in your ear.

He's pressed against your back as closely as he can be, so tight you imagine the runoff can't even slip between you. But that can't be right because he's slick against you, streams of soap finding their way down your spine through the follicles of his thick chest hair, coating your skin to let him work against you in slick, slow grinds. You can feel his belly settled against the small of your back, forcing you to arch your spine just so, let him fuck in deep to the very end of you, cock head leaking against your cervix.

He'd asked you if you were on some sort of contraceptive once, much too late for it to have mattered. You'd told yourself you wouldn't take his money again when you'd caught the look of disappointment on his face, but you'd told yourself a lot of things.

It's hard to feel shame, in the moment, at least. And maybe that's the worst part - the fact that you ache for him when he's away. Empty, hungry. But if there's something wrong with him that means there's something wrong with you, right? That means the long nights spent with your fingers stuffed in your cunt just wishing for something thicker are just as bad as this: bellied up against a dirty shower stall with a strange man's cock buried so deep inside you you're sure it'll take this time, that seed of doubt that makes you want to climb in his truck when he inevitable offers. Why settle for lot lizard when you could just be his?

Of course, he never phrases it like that, never admits he'll keep you. And maybe he won't but he'd take you Arkansas, maybe, where his plates are from. North, where he's headed tonight perhaps. Usually you see him returning form out West and you wonder… He doesn't have to keep you. You don't need to hear him say it. Cause whatever's wrong with him, it's catching.

But he doesn't ask, not when he's still panting like a bellows in your ear, rocking his hips against you aimlessly as he works you both through it. He doesn't ask when he slips free and immediately cups his callused palm against your cunt, groaning when he feels his own spend leaking onto his hand. He certainly doesn't ask when he makes you lick it clean, salt and the heavy tang of grease which Irish Springs will never fully cut through. You think maybe he'll ask when he goes to shove the money in your hand, as is his usual. But he doesn't, so you do, your own stomach acid boiling up your esophagus as you try (and fail) to keep the desperate edge out of your voice.

And John, well. You did know there was something wrong with him.

"What's is to you?" he grunts, hand snapping back out of your reach when you go to take the proffered money.

"But… you said -?"

"Know what I said. Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he soothes, a balm for the fear you hadn't even been able to voice. "Just… maybe it'll look different now?"

"How do you mean?" you hedge, and John steps closer, blots out the flickering overhead light. Behind him, the door to the shower room opens and rapidly closes, the soft pad of boots treading back down the hall confirming your would-be voyeur had wanted nothing to do with this scene.

At least your reputation remained undamaged.

"I mean. I'll keep you fed. Clothed. Keep you out of the elements. You really gonna make me pay on top of all that?"

"Oh," you wilt. "I guess not."

John's eyes crinkle when he grins at you encouragingly, that same deceptively endearing quality that had first drawn you to him all those months ago. He pulls you against himself, lets you bask in the warmth of his soft, furry chest as he continues to soothe your fears. "But don't worry, not gonna let you put yourself in a bind, hm? You still got something saved from my last visit, yeah? And if you ever need some more, we'll find you some work." He swats you on the ass before you can protest, leaning away to collect his flannel. "Now get dressed. Running behind schedule and I'm already gonna have to skip a stop in Oakley."

"That why you didn't take the time to stretch me open properly?" you ask, cheeky - testing your boundaries. You're pleasantly surprised when he just huffs a laugh, leans close to grown in your ear about how he'll never have to stretch you open again.

It's surreal following him out, ducking behind his broad frame to let him weather the stare of the would-be voyeur. John doesn't flinch so neither do you, head back to your post behind the till with the same confidence you've seen among his boys. A runt still maybe, but part of the pack now.

"Where're you off to?" John asks when he sees you slinking off in the wrong direction. You wait until the other driver disappears down the hall to unlock the register, grinning at your partner as you lift a few hundred from it.

"I know what 'some work' means," you say by way of explanation, and frown when it fails to earn any sign of chastisement.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, love," John warns instead, eyes rolling warily to the overhead security camera.

You wave him off, a loose fiver fluttering free of your fist. "Take this," you order, shoving the hills into his chest. More spill free but the ducks to collect them as you pull up the feed on the laptop behind the counter. "Retired truckers don't know much about security," you impart wisely.

"That so?" he drawls, voice rich with a humor you don't quite understand.

"Yeah, word to the wise - always have a live feed backed up to a separate, private location." to illustrate the importance of this, you cut the feed and then proceed to delete all evidence of the night's recording. It won't stop Roy, the owner, from knowing who's shift if was but it would keep John safe from all but that other driver who apparently already knew enough to keep his head down any way.

When you peel yourself away from the screen, John's eyeing you with a sort of appreciation that makes your tummy flip, a low simmer of excitement building just there, just where you feel him most when he's inside you. Infecting. Spreading. "Clever doll, you are," he praises as you step back around the counter. He hands you your loot back, now properly shuffled into a neat stack. "I'll have to remember that. Now go on out to your car and get what you need. I'll just be a minute, he says, nodding to a display of beef jerky like there's nothing of more value to him in the whole store.

It seems to take him forever deciding, but when he comes back the other trucker still hasn't left.

[blissfullylankartz]

the oddworld fandom don’t really want to interact with you because you don’t care about oddworld. compared to other fandoms we’re tiny and the games don’t get enough love anyway so it feels borderline disrespectful. if it’s not your thing why are you even making ocs for it?

I literally made a post saying not to pull this shit, I said I would be taking anon asks as long as people were kind. Yet once again I'm being met with being pushed out of a community I was wanting to get to know about. Being told I don't care when I'm literally still new and learning things. So people apparently can only partake in a community if they only know every little detail about it?

Look if you have an issue with me I'd rather you not be hiding behind anon, it feels incredibly uncomfortable and disrespectful that you would cross a boundary I set in place. The anon asks was to allow people to send asks comfortably, but you keep ruining it for everyone with me needing to turn them off because you don't have the balls to come out and say stuff without hiding behind anon. You make me believe the community is unkind and unwelcoming, when I don't want to believe that because some of the people I have interacted with have been wonderful.

You don't get to dictate what I take interest in and how I enjoy those things. So just leave me alone or at least stop hiding behind anon, it isn't fair on anyone else that you keep doing this. I won't be switching anon off because I put it on to allow people to be comfortable. I didn't put it on to allow you to feel comfortable being unwelcoming, if your going to stand up for what you love then stop hiding. Or are you afraid that if people knew who was doing it that they wouldn't like you as much anymore, since it's a small community alot of people seem to know each other. I doubt it would be fun to find out that someone was going out of Thier way to shun people from a community they apparently care about.

If you love something wouldn't you rather want to share it and talk about it, not being hateful and pushing people away from it.

I'm tired of this, this was a shitty thing to just wake up to.

Edit: anon has apologised for their behaviour however decided not to post a response to that because I don't want to give them more attention than necessary. This will be the last thing I'll be adding to this situation. I've blocked them from being able to send anon asks anymore, this is because they broke a couple of boundaries and have done things that I'm really not comfortable with. Also just didn't enjoy the vibes being brought to the table. Just hope a lesson has been learnt here.

Thank you for all the kindness that everyone has shown to me, I was a little surprised by the amount of responses, but I'm glad the community seems to take these things seriously. Don't worry I'm not going anywhere and my asks are still open and yous are free to send asks as anons. Just be kind and respectful<3 eventually I may make a post with all the ocs on it that are available for asks once I've brushed up more on lore. I look forward to doing more with yous <3

[lrharrier]

I feel like there's no one in this world that wouldn't love to be around kittens, right? Because how could you not? Given how cute they are! But it makes sense if you've not had pets growing up to want to be around them more, and it shows your strength that you didn't steal any! Thankfully I'm back home for a while, so she's not going to get mad at me anymore for leaving! And I got her a little sister puppy, so she's happy about that too. What brand are you an ambassador for? Weddings have to be so cute when you're with your spouse, right? Because it has to remind you a little about the day you got married. And that's the exact way I feel about weddings as well, plus I'm just a person who loves love. Good, we'll have a drink together at the next wedding, and you can introduce me to your wife too! I can imagine how much you're looking forward to being home and having that break, I hope you enjoy every second of your time off! And I'm glad your company is one that gives you time off, because I know you guys work really hard. I also love that you guys have so much fun, that's how it should be in any career, right? Hopefully you get to go on another one of those trips then, since you liked it so much! I can't help but laugh a little that they take their tea so seriously over there, but I also understand it to a point as well! I bet he was shocked he was booed too! Oh, you're sweet to say that, and I'm really looking forward to this friendship as well!

Glad to hear that you did and enjoyed it. It just might, haha. I know I'd love being around the kittens though. It's not possible. Though that could be also due to me not having an pets at all growing up. You definitely had to and I'm sure she had forgiven you. I love getting to go to them plus I would be a bad brand ambassador if I didn't. I get that for sure. I love wedding as well and try to go to them alongside my wife whenever possible if my schedule allows me to do so. That's the best way to go about it. There's just something about weddings that make you feel happy plus it's always a good time. I look forward to it and already know I will be on the look out for you, haha. It is honestly. I look forward to being home again though and getting to enjoy a little break. Our company is pretty good at giving us time to relax after we've been touring. We do! Even with making music, we have tons of fun with it. I remember one of the most fun things I got to do was go on a little trip alongside my brother. Makes me wanna do so again one day. You really will be. People take their tea seriously over there. I was just in awe he was being booed. You're welcome! I feel you would be so definitely makes me look forward to this friendship.

[seat-safety-switch]

We love machines, our species, but we love modifying machines more. Cars are no exception. At the very least, it's fun to slap cool stickers and pretty wheels on them. Whenever Big Bossman at the factory tells us how we "have to" use his product, we get really mad. And for good reason. If Henry Ford, that fucking fascist, forced us to use his vehicles his way, then we wouldn't have ambulances – or the V8.

As you might imagine, the history of car modification has been that very same Big Bossman throwing obstacle after obstacle in front of hot-rodders. Soon, after much experimentation and deliberation, those greasy weirdos staying late in garages and magazine "journalist" bullpens figured out how to overcome those obstacles, and the situation repeats.

That's why I modify cars, myself. It's a form of rebellion against higher authority, sure, but it's also the only way humanity progresses. Why, if we didn't change our environment around us, we wouldn't have invented the wheel, and then our cars would get terrible fuel economy. Corporations won't give us fancy new innovations: we have to go out there and make them ourselves, by buying the stuff they made used and then cutting a hole in it.

Now, am I a good car modifier? No. Most of my "modifications," if I'm honest, involve pop-riveting stolen(?) road signs into my car so that I have something resembling "a floor" for when my mom needs a ride to court. That doesn't matter, though. Henry Ford, that fucking fascist, would sneer at what I've done. He doesn't get to tell me how to feel about it: only some random weirdos on a car-modification forum, who may or may not actually modify their cars, can tell me how to feel. And that's the true spirit of hot rodding.

[mythals-whore]

Some thoughts on fandom engagement

Post got long but TL;DR engagement is low, Never Ever Stop Creating! fandom is community and everyone needs to participate

extended thoughts and personal anecdote under the cut:

For writers:

I have turned off Kudos emails from ao3. I found myself checking my email and feeling discouraged when I didn't get them. So i turned the emails off so I wouldn't know I wasn't getting them. Even now when I go to my dashboard, I specifically do not look at the bottom of the work to see those numbers.

This is not me telling you to do the same thing. It is easier said than done, and I understand that. But that's what I had to do to have a good time.

Because for a little while, posting made it less fun. I felt like people didn't like it. I was being overly critical of myself, couldn't write more than three sentences without feeling like I was garbage and my work was garbage and I should just quit. I would post a chapter and then immediately want to take the whole thing down. But then I realized...

I have about four half-finished projects in my WIP folder. I have written like 500,000 words that no one has ever read. Because I had fun doing it! Because I enjoy writing!!

And the point of this isn't to say writers shouldn't want or expect engagement. That is not at all what I'm saying!

What I am saying is that if you enjoy writing and you find that posting your work is making you feel unmotivated, discouraged, and you're not having fun anymore it is okay to take it down. It’s okay to make your work private for a while. It's okay to turn off Kudos emails or even comments. Whatever you need to do to make it fun again, do that. If you enjoy creating, please do not let the lack of engagement stop you!

It's been really helpful for me to find a community of creators! Without the support of @thedissonantverses @flowersforthemachines and @basedonconjecture I may have deleted my work months ago!

And that said, if you want someone to read your work, there are so many people (including and especially me) who would love to read and promote you! Participate in WIP Wednesday and Writing Weekend! Promote your own work!! Promote other creators' work! This is how we build community!

For readers:

If you love fanfic, and fanart and fandom in general engage with it. The urge to take down your work is real! And not unique to me! If writers don't get kudos or comments or replies on tumblr, they will delete their work. If there's a fic you find, and you enjoy it but you don't engage with it do not be surprised if you log on one day and it isn't there anymore. Or if it gets orphaned. Or if they simply stop updating it.

Fandom is meant to be a community. The whole purpose of it is to enjoy the things you enjoy with other people. If you're consuming free work (be that fanfic, fan art or something else) and you're not liking or reblogging or commenting then those people will stop sharing it.

And my personal take, while we're here: I do not get it.

I do not understand why there are people out there who do not jump at the chance to directly engage with authors and artists who make things that you enjoy. You can tell them personally how much you like their work! You can ask them questions! You can send them your unhinged ramblings on The Character.

And before anyone comes to my replies and says: I never know what to say ))):

Here is a non-comprehensive list of 10 slightly unhinged things that I've actually commented on fics (some edited for brevity)

I am chewing on glass.

bye i’m putting my fist through the wall 😭

These two are consuming my every waking thought

That ruined me i fear. I have passed away

THIS IS LITERATURE. absolutely tore my heart out.

You are sick in the head my friend

Im gonna sip on this sentence a while.🤌🏻

how could you do this to them? writing about this in my burn book brb

A) You absolutely cooked here B) how fucking dare you?

 kicking my feet and giggling!!!!!

And this isn't just for ao3/fanfic writers. Fanartists deserve love too! Artists love feedback!! The more unhinged the better!! Tell us we're evil! Quote our work back to us! Tell us you're smashing through walls like the Kool-aid man! Tell us that our work is making you scream and cry and blush!

No one is expecting you to leave several long paragraphs with an actual annotated review (not that that wouldn't also be welcome). Comment! Engage! Community is the whole point!

This also goes for finding Tumblr mutuals, by the way. If you want to make friends with people on here engage with their content! Like their posts! Reply to them! Send asks and messages!

Stop being afraid to enjoy things! That is like...all we are doing here.

[lsunstreakerl]

For the kink prompt,

Not the most 'out there', but, a classic, cockwarming! (i just think it fits max and charles very well - "I love you and i want to get you out of your head so you can have some peace and quiet". But, i also think it fits max and danny very well too - "you are freaking the entire garage out with your bullshit so you are going to be quiet for the x amount of time until you become normal again")

but, if you did want to get freaky with it; tentacles, pet play (i'm taking kitten max to its logical conclusion), somnophilia, omorashi, knife play, to name just a few

So, I've written most everything on that list, somewhat including cockwarming- and I decided to go for knifeplay!

friendly reminder this is clearly a kink prompt fill so it's going to be explicit. in the case of this one it's also violent. 1k words, Max POV

pairings: max verstappen/martijn garrix

relevant heads up: uh, yeah. violence, post apocalyptic universe, gunplay, knifeplay, bloodplay.

"You're being a cunt, by the way."

Max snorts, tossing the dirty rag into the sink.

"Right, because being neat is undesirable now."

Martijn shrugs, shoving his dirty knife back into the sheath on his hip.

"You don't like to leave a mess, mate. It's cute, sure, but like– live a little, yes? Have some fun with it."

Max wrinkles his nose, sticking his head in the pantry to check for snacks.

"The rest of the world is still normal, Martijn. Maybe I would like to be well-adjusted when we get out of here."

Martijn laughs, loud and abrupt as he grabs a bottle of gin from a cabinet.

"We're not fucking getting out, babe. And you rigged up the most insane death trap I've ever seen outside the house, so I wouldn't call you 'well adjusted' either."

Max rolls his eyes, spotting a container of stroopwafels in the back– those are definitely coming back with them.

"Well, until I eventually snap and go as insane as the rest of you have, let me keep pretending."

Martijn leans over, plants a disgustingly wet kiss on the side of Max's face, even as he attempts to shove him away.

"Awww, of course."

------

It's been two and half years since their borders got locked down overnight, and Max has lost count of how many people he's ended up killing. Somewhere after 30 it got blurry– and it doesn't matter much anyways.

He's stretched out on the couch, watching Martijn methodically disassemble their guns to clean them. His fingers are smooth and confident, dancing over the rifle barrels like he used to on the turntables.

Max is bored. And also horny.

He sighs, watching Martijn's eyes flick up to his, eyebrow raised.

"I'm bored."

Martijn starts reassembling the rifle, soft snaps and clicks from where he's sitting on the floor.

"Where is that my problem?"

Max drops his head back with a groan.

"Remember when I was rich and famous and got whatever I wanted?"

Martijn hums softly, and the sound of the metal against the floor has stopped.

"Yes, you were very spoiled."

"I wonder who the champions have been, without me."

There's a rustle of fabric, and then Martijn is in his field of view, looking down at Max judgmentally.

"No one that could've won against you if you were still there, that's for sure."

Max grins, eyes scrunching.

"You say the sweetest things. I do miss the adrenaline though, mate, it is hard to replicate that."

Martijn scoffs, and then there's a heavy weight on Max's hips, arms pinned to his side by strong knees.

Max jolts, but–

There's cold gunmetal in his mouth, a slight sting at his throat.

Martijn leans down by his face, and Max feels the knife's edge against his throat push in– there's a warm trickle of blood beading down his neck.

"Really? Nothing gets your blood pumping anymore? Not when you're fighting for your life, or sneaking into someone else's base, or antagonizing me?"

Max swallows– the unforgiving ridge of the barrel presses hard into the roof of his mouth.

He's hard.

Martijn coos at him, rolling his hips down.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Martijn doesn't move the gun, but Max feels the point of the knife trace down his neck, drag lightly across his collarbones before digging in near his shoulder.

"You enjoy feeling like you're about to die."

Max tries to swallow again, drool pooling in the bottom of his mouth. He makes a pained noise as the knife sinks deeper into his shoulder.

Martijn grins down at him, but his eyes are fixed where the knife is in him, and Max feels him brush his thumb through the wetness that's starting to drip down his arm and chest.

Martijn brings his hand back up, tongue flicking at to lick at the red smearing on him. Max's hips jerk, and Martijn's still fucking smirking.

He slides down so his thigh is wedged between Max's legs, and then he's pulling the barrel of the gun out of Max's mouth, tossing it onto the floor nearby.

He yanks the knife back out of Max's shoulder as he cries out, holding it against his throat again.

"You want to get off, yes? Bored little cunt, so needy here all the fucking time."

Max tries to buck up, but the sweet slide of friction is accompanied by the sting of metal digging into his throat–

If he wants to get off against Martijn's leg, the knife is going to cut him.

He moans, trying anyway.

"Please, want to get off, please Martijn, leave a mark–"

Martijn laughs, sliding the knife down to cut across Max's collarbone. The sharp sting, the hot well of blood Max can feel dripping down him–

"Yeah yeah, go ahead. Maybe I'll put my name on you, a little return to sender."

Max drags his hips against Martijn's thigh. He's close, head fuzzy with the gun and the knife and the blood, Martijn's words ringing in his head.

"Please, please please–"

The knife digs deeper as Martijn shoves his thigh higher, and then Max is coming, making a mess, head dropping back.

There's the sound of a zipper, and Martijn is dragging his fingers across the blood from Max's neck and shoulders– followed by the slick sound of him jerking off, right before Max feels splashes of cum on his chest.

"Fuck, you're pretty like that."

Martijn's fingers come back down, smearing blood and cum together as Max shivers in the aftershocks.

"I mean, really, what would you even do if things went back to normal? You'd be so pathetic– nothing gets you hotter than this."

Martijn's fingers slip into his mouth, and Max laps at them, tastes the bitterness and the metallic tang all at once.

Martijn coos.

"It took you a little longer, but you're just as crazy as everyone else, aren't you?"

Max blinks up at him, tongue licking the last of the mess off Martijn's fingers.

He's right.