#i get to the prompts eventually i just suck at writing and letting them go

[loulovingho]

Prompt: Tommy's first birthday with Evan and he's turning 40

I'm sorry this took so long I think about things too much!

Buck had asked when Tommy's birthday was when they first started dating, kept it held tight in his memory bank until he could write it in his calendar, and began planning before they'd even gone on more than four dates. His birthday was still months away at that point, but somehow Buck knew he was in it for the long haul.

Over those few months, as their relationship turned more into a partnership, Buck learned that Tommy never really had birthday parties growing up. His mom would buy him a donut that morning and put a candle in it, sing to him quietly in the kitchen while his dad was nursing a hangover in the living room, and then he'd unwrap a comic book that his mom would save up to buy.

Every birthday after seventeen was spent alone, or at work, and he never mentioned it to anyone.

That meant that his 40th birthday had to be perfect. Absolutely perfect from start to finish.

Tommy had told him he didn't expect or even want anything, but Buck had made him promise he'd request the day off.

Tommy rarely said no to anything Buck asked.

Buck made sure Bobby scheduled everyone off for that day as well.

What he didn't expect was that Jee would get sick, and give whatever flu bug she had to Maddie and Chimney.

Or that Denny would break his leg playing soccer and Hen would be spending the night in the hospital.

Or that Christopher would call Eddie and ask him to fly to El Paso and bring him home.

Bobby had to cancel too. A pipe burst in May's apartment and they had to go move her into a new place.

A couple of Tommy's friends had last minute things come up too, leaving Buck to cancel on the remaining few that could make it. It would have been really lame to do all he had planned with only four or five people present.

On the morning of Tommy's birthday, Buck rolled over to see Tommy sleeping soundly beside him. His hair was all ruffled up, mouth hanging slightly open. His chest rose and fell peacefully.

So damn cute, Buck thought.

He'd broken the news to him yesterday afternoon. All the surprises he had planned had to be cancelled on the count of him having the worst luck in the world. Tommy had laughed, his face scrunched in that adorable smile that Buck could never resist. He brought Buck close to him, promised him, “Evan, I don't need anything or anyone but you.”

Still, Buck knew he could make the day just as special without anyone else. He started by quietly slipping out of bed, pulling on his boxers before heading to the kitchen.

When Tommy woke up twenty minutes later, it was to the smell of pancakes and bacon, his favorite breakfast.

“What's all this?” Tommy asked, a smile on his face. His hair was still a mess, he had on basketball shorts that he had tossed off the night before, and a very tight white shirt on that was most definitely Buck's. Buck loved getting to see him like this. Loved that he wasn't always so put together like everyone else thought he was.

“It's birthday breakfast,” Buck answered, bringing a plate of pancakes to the table before walking over to Tommy and wrapping him in his arms. He pressed a kiss to his lips, tasting the minty mouthwash Tommy had just used. “Happy birthday, babe,” he whispered once they parted.

Another kiss, Tommy moaning a little “Mm” into it this time, the way he always did when he felt overwhelmed by Buck's love. “Thank you.”

Reluctantly, he let Buck go so he could go get the bacon. Coffee was already on the table, steam still rising from the cup. Tommy sat down a took a sip.

Just the way he liked it.

“You didn't have to do this for me, Evan,” he said once the bacon was at the table and Buck was seated beside him.

“I wanted to. Now, eat up. Busy day ahead.”

After breakfast they both went to get dressed, but ended up a bit distracted. Usually Buck would be beside himself being thirty minutes behind schedule. Especially when he had spent the entire previous day planning every moment on a clipboard he had found mysteriously hidden behind the couch.

Turns out, Tommy was very excited about his breakfast pancakes and Buck couldn't find it in him to care that they weren't going to be on time.

Once they finally got dressed and out the door, they headed to the zoo. Tommy had mentioned before that he'd never been, and Buck had been determined since that day to make sure he got in a visit.

After the zoo was The Getty. It was a bit of a drive, but that didn't matter. Buck had learned two months into their relationship that Tommy was an incredible artist. He didn't make much time for it, but when he did, he put his all into it. Even when Buck didn't quite understand what Tommy had painted, he loved it. It was beautiful, because it meant something to Tommy, and that's all that mattered.

There was a late lunch after that, at one of their favorite cafe's. They sat outside and enjoyed the breeze while they sipped on lemonade and shared sandwiches.

Last was a hike. Nothing strenuous. It was more of an excuse to walk side by side, holding hands and chatting. Buck loved doing that. Loved that Tommy didn't shy away from affection. Loved how their hands fit together just perfectly, swinging between them with each step.

After that, they headed home for a movie night. Love, Actually was first, with whatever else Tommy wanted after that.

“Evan,” Tommy stopped him as they entered their house.

“Yeah?” Buck asked, turning to him.

Tommy lifted a hand to Buck's face, his thumb stroking his cheek gently. “Today was incredible.”

“You sure? I know it wasn't-”

“Ev. Incredible,” Tommy repeated.

Buck smiled, relief washing over his face. “It was, wasn't it?”

Tommy pulled him in for a kiss, stepping back until Buck was pressed up against the door.

Before it could get too heated, Buck patted his chest and Tommy reluctantly pulled away.

“There's something else for you,” he said, sliding away from Tommy and heading into the kitchen.

“Hun, I don't need anything else. You already did too much.”

“Just one more thing.” Buck got a rectangular, white box out of the fridge. Tommy wasn't sure how he'd hid it, but it was the first he'd seen of it. He walked closer, standing across the counter from Buck as he set the cake box down.

“You got me a cake, too?!” Tommy asked, his voice filled with something Buck could only describe as child-like glee.

“Of course I did.” He lifted the lid to show Tommy a beautifully decorated chocolate and vanilla marble cake, with 'Happy 40th Birthday, Tommy' written on it. “It was too late to cancel and order a smaller one,” he said as Tommy stared down at it in wonder, “so it feeds thirty people, but we can freeze it.”

“It's perfect,” Tommy said softly. He looked up at Buck, eyes wide and wet, “This whole day... perfect."

Evan walked around the counter and pulled Tommy close, resting his head in the crook of Tommy's neck, pressing a kiss there. “I love you, Tommy.”

Tommy ran his hands up and down Buck's back, a happy sigh escaping him. “I love you, Evan.”

*****

They were both very pleasantly surprised one week later when, thinking they were going to Bobby and Athena's for a simple dinner, they opened the door to be greeted with a beautifully decorated house. Tons of balloons and streamers all around. All their friends and family there, shouting surprise as they stood under a huge 'HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TOMMY' sign. A cake was rolled out with forty candles, and written on it was 'Someone call a firefighter!'

Tommy had to fight back the tears in his eyes. In one week he'd gone from never having a birthday cake in his life, to having two.

[hyewka]

idk if this is allowed but,

threesome with yeonjun and beomgyu

⭑ fetish! | c.yj & c.bg ࿐

⭑ synopsis; when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

⭑ warnings; inexperienced!reader, sort of soft dom!yj & switch!gyu, cunninglingus, gagging, throat fuck, cum eating, unsafe sex, creampie, basically all of them are drunk to some degree, iffy word choice with consent but its all definitely consensual, doll/baby petname, childhood best friends/college au

⭑ note; i don’t know how to feel about this at all and i feel like i might wake up one day and just randomly despise it with my entire being but here is a threesome fic long overdue on this blog, take it with what you will because this might just be the last time i ever attempt to challenge my skills 😭

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

“So what if we didn’t go all the way, I still got to eat her out. Which she loved F.Y.I.”

Yeonjun snorts, downing his drink. “Dude you’re such a loser.”

“Just say you don’t get bitches like I do.”

You don’t mean to, but that’s what breaks your nonchalance, cracking up like that was the funniest thing you’ve heard.

Like clockwork, both of their heads turn to you expectantly, as if remembering that you’re here with them and you know you just messed up. Maybe if you keep looking at your phone they’d know to leave you alone.

This has been a thing since highschool; their dumb Who Gets More Action wars that served almost no purpose but to stroke their young male egos. More times than you could count, you’re for some reason sucked in as the end all be all judge even if there were others present they could go and bother with details of their sex life.

You’re not letting that happen tonight. You will not become Simon Cowell of who fucks more.

“Hey,” Beomgyu starts nudging you with his feet, annoyingly persistent. “Hey hey, get off your phone, what are you laughing at?”

Yeonjun easily swipes your phone from your hands making you throw your head back groaning. God, to hell with him. “Give it back!” you whine. He shrugs, stuffing your phone in his pockets. Asshole.

You glare at him with murder on your mind, but all that gets you is a condescending pout thrown your way.

“Ughhh I’m going to throw up, stop with the flirting.”

You throw your plastic cup at Beomgyu’s face, and he flinches back in the most dramatic sense ever. “Bitch.” you mutter.

Yeonjun ignores Beomgyu’s comment altogether. “Everyone knows I get more bitches than you Beomgyu. That’s why she laughed. Plus, you make up shit all the time.”

“I do not.”

“You do. You lied about Yoo Jimin.” You recall, giving up on getting your phone back.

Yeonjun makes a sound of remembrance, clasping his hands together. “That was actually so funny. Yoo Jimin. You’ve lost your mind.”

Beomgyu shoots you a betrayed look, “No way you believe his propaganda! We literally had sex! Halloween 2021!”

You give him a skeptical look, brows raised. Beomgyu could fool anyone, but he can’t fool Yeonjun, let alone you. Beomgyu and Jimin? Didn’t make sense. Not on Earth at least.

“That’s one person anyway who cares.” he mutters.

“Ryujin.” You name. “She’s lesbian Gyu. Even when she was questioning she would’ve rather killed herself than let a man touch her.”

Yeonjun barks into laughter, leaning into you. “Ryujin of all people is fucking mental man.”

“Two people, still very little.” he counters.

Was that a challenge? If he wanted to play this game, you would be an expert.

“Jihyo, Miyeon—”

“I fucked Miyeon.”

“Yeah but you said she let you fuck her in the ass, which! She revealed never happened.”

He gasps in horror, face dropped, like that had to be the most offensive thing hes heard.

“I literally have proof it happened, holy shit Miyeon’s a pathological liar.” Beomgyu fumbles his phone, eyes laser focused as his thumb swipes in rapid speed. You snicker, he’s such an idiot. You know he’ll turn up empty but hes on a mission so you let him be.

“Can you pass me the beer?” you mutter lazily, feeling the alcohol hit you now, making a grabbing motion to the can far from your reach.

“Sure you want more?” Yeonjun whispers, with a similarly lazy slur to his words.

You were all clearly buzzed out, sprawled on the floor of your living room, your table pushed to the side with multiple beer cans crushed in a mess. It’s your version of heaven— a little sad maybe, but it was the perfect mix of mundane and fun to you.

“Just beer.” You reply.

He nods, grabbing it for you and instinctively twisting the cap open. Hes’ always been like that, an acts of service sort of guy. The small flex of his veins when he does it is something you silently take note of. You’re so far gone with your small crush on him.

You clear your throat, snapping yourself out of it. “Thanks. Are you gonna give me back my phone or?”

He pretends to think it over, before clicking his tongue. “Nah, later.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip from your can.

“We don’t get to hangout like this often, missed it y’know? So you can hold off your phone addiction for a bit and stop acting bratty.” he teases.

“Aye aye captain.”

He tuts at you, nudging your shoulder. “I literally cringe internally every time you say that.”

You hum, looking over at Beomgyu. Who is incredibly tense, almost frozen. “Why’d you stop scrolling?”

Maybe Yeonjun saw what you saw, Beomgyu’s face incredibly red, and eyes so weirdly fixed on his phone because he immediately scoots to him, nosy to take a look at his phone screen.

You study Yeonjun’s face. His brows slowly rise. And the only thing he says is “Damn.”

“What?” you ask, curiosity peaked. Nobody answers though, seemingly hypnotised by whatevers on Beomgyus screen.

Yeah, thats enough for your lazy ass to get up and see what they’re looking at.

…To say it’s not what you expect at all is an understatement.

The video playing has no audio, but the visual splayed out in Beomgyu’s hand is all it takes for your thighs to rub instinctively. The phone was obviously placed by the bedside, the view a little tilted, the girl with her face pressed onto the sheets as Beomgyu fucks into her mercilessly unrecognisable, the bed quite literally shaking to match his rhythm. Your face grows hot, and your throat dries, the video looks old because his hair is longer, messier, something that looked like it was from freshman year.

You’re surprised, it’s more than real. He really was going at it.

“I’m fucking her ass here.”

Holy shit. That must’ve hurt like a bitch.

“How would we know it’s Miyeon though?” Yeonjun says, eyes set on the screen.

Beomgyu forwards the video towards the end and lets it play—its the part where he picks up the phone and holds the girls head up by her hair, turning her over, capturing her face fucked out, a mix of spit and cum evidently all over, but more than that, its Miyeon’s face covered in filth.

You bite down on your lips, nervously looking at Beomgyu—who catches your stare. “What?”

You shake your head, dismissing him.

Truth is, this might’ve been the most you’ve seen from Beomgyu in this light. The light that you’ve heard plenty of, but obviously never thought you’d actually…see. Hes always been slutty, especially with him being infamous for his gross PDA on campus, but seeing it—seeing him actually fucking the light out of someone…you gulp down the lump stuck in your throat.

“You’re a freak dude.” Yeonjun says, laughing.

“But not a liar.”

“Nah you’ve yet to prove Jimins, wheres the tape?”

“You just wanna see her getting railed, touch luck bitch.” Beomgyu closes his phone making you realise you were still staring. “Hey, you good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Beomgyu shifts his attention to you, making you nervous, shrugging his concern off.

Yeonjun speaks for you instead, a smirk plastered on his face. “She’s a virgin, basically saw something worse than a ghost.”

God, this again!

“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun!”

“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun.” He mimics annoyingly high pitched and you groan.

“I’m not. I’ve had multiple boyfriends before.”

“Three.” Beomgyu says, “You’ve had three boyfriends.”

“All very long and fruitful relationships, mind you.”

Yeonjun leans back on the couch, stretching his arms behind his back and you know this is a sign that he’s going to be a little bitch about this. “How far have you went?”

“All the way.” you glare back challengily, sipping on your beer.

“Had someone nut in your ass?”

You snap your head to Beomgyu in horror, upper lip quirked. Of course he’d be curious about that. “Damn I’m taking that as a no.”

You force a smile and flip him off rightfully. The little bitch sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation and you have half the mind to not smack him.

“Have you done it without a condom?”

You narrow your eyes at that. Yeonjun’s awfully curious, way too curious for someone whos never been curious. Seriuously, he’d be the last person to care for your sex life. Maybe Beomgyu—totally Beomgyu, but not Yeonjun.

“Is this an interrogation?”

Yeonjun shrugs.

“I—okay, I haven’t. I bet you guys haven’t either.” You immediately regret saying that, it’s obvious they’ve done something so trivial. And its even made more obvious when both of them start laughing maniacally.

Your face runs red, resorting to chugging more beer.

Beomgyu rests his head on your lap suddenly and you quirk your brow down at him. “What? Your thighs are comfortable.”

You narrow your eyes at him, skeptical of what exactly he’s trying to pull until Yeonjun’s asking you questions again after calming down from his laughing fit.

“Gotten fingered?”

“Well no shit.”

Beomgyus attention is piqued, “You have?”

“How else am I supposed to…you know..get prepped?” you say, coughing around the word.

Beomgyu snorts, “You just did the most virgin thing ever oh my god.”

“That’s why I don’t believe a single thing coming out of her mouth.”

“I’m not a virgin.” you say for the umpteenth time. When they both exchange silent looks, you clear your throat. “But, I might be a little…inexperienced. That’s it though, I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex…like twice.”

Beomgyu shoots up, making you jump in shock. “Twice?!” he shouts. He looks at you like you might’ve just led the saddest life of the entirety of human history.“And three boyfriends? The math isn’t…”

“Well one of them believed pre-marital sex would have us damned so—”

“Oh yeahh, your Christian boy Mark.” Yeonjun marvels. “That guy was a total bitch.”

Yeah, Mark. The guy you thought you’d end up marrying someday, until he decided to cheat with an anal whore as you call it. Cheating on you in broad daylight, in the apartment you shared wasn’t enough, he tried to mansplain the difference between anal virginity and vaginal virginity right after he was caught.

You shudder remembering the scene.

“A little unrelated but I always sort of thought you guys fucked.” Beomgyu starts, breaking the silence. “Like at least once.”

You sigh, he’s never letting this sexual tension bullshit thing go. If anything, Yeonjun probably saw you in the least sexual light possible. Unfortunately. “No. No we haven’t Beomgyu, we keep telling you this.”

“You” He points a finger at you, “Keep telling me this. Not him. That’s suspicious.”

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything even as both you and Beomgyu stare at him— he just mixes his soju and beer together for another shot.

You relent, speaking up. “Yeonjun tell him we haven’t fucked so he can stop insinuating that we’re freaks behind closed doors 24/7.”

Beomgyu snickers at that, still toying with the fabric of your shorts. You think it’s just out of habit.

“Yeah, we haven’t.” Yeonjun finally confirms.

You widen your eyes at Beomgyu to taunt him, getting all up on his face, nonverbally celebrating an I told you so. He just rolls his eyes at you, a dumb smile on his face.

“But I want to.”

…What.

That has both you and Beomgyu frozen, his smile slowly dropping before he turns to face Yeonjun.

Your mind works overtime trying to process whether you heard that right, did it have any hints of a joke, why couldn’t you pick up on it then? Or whether all your life you’ve read it all wrong—is it the drinks speaking or? But drunk words are sober thoughts…right? Is he just-

“Huh?” Beomgyu’s the one to ask for a clarification first.

He only shrugs, proving that none of you heard him wrong. “I wanna fuck her. I mean, you’re hot I’m not being unreasonable.”

You don’t know how to respond without sounding like an even more awkward virgin, so you stay silent, trying to make sense of it in your own head. But when you catch Beomgyu slowly nodding from your peripheral vision like what Yeonjun’s saying makes sense, you painfully nudge him.

He whines, defending himself almost immediately. “What? He’s not wrong, you’re mega hot now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut irritated, “Don’t—god, don’t ever say ‘mega hot’ again.”

Beomgyu mumbles something intelligible, something that sounded like one of his sulky protests that you just ignore as the room falls silent again. Yeonjun seems completely unbothered of the atmosphere, drinking his somaek like this was just another normal day, like he didn’t just air out something that could potentially completely flip your entire dynamic.

The tension is thick, and it suddenly feels way too hot to be here anymore but then Beomgyu speaks up again. “Do you know how to suck a dick?”

You snort, not answering as you keep your eyes on the floor.

But it’s impossible to ignore him when he keeps staring at you, almost too intensely for a question you thought was to break the tension. You look to his face, and there’s no sign of lightheartedness anywhere. He was seriously asking. “So? Do you?”

You decide to humor him, anything to get over this suffocating silence. “Sort of.”

Yeonjun chuckles, “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

You roll your eyes, frankly irritated that he’s even speaking right now. “Sort of means I can, but I don’t know if I’m …good at it.”

He hums in understanding, nodding. “Wanna test your skills out right now?”

Your eyes bulge out, blinking rapidly as you look at Yeonjun in shock. Did he seriously just…say that? Your face grows even hotter as you stutter around a response.

But before you could even form a proper response, Beomgyu says something first, whining into his hands. “I literally cannot be the only one really fucking turned on right now.”

At his words, your eyes instinctively look down to his pants and god, he wasn’t kidding. You don’t know how you haven’t noticed until now, but the imprint of his dick building a tent in his sweatpants has you looking away like you’ve just seen the most sinful thing ever. You don’t miss the small patch of wetness at the top either. You rub your thighs together again, this time you curse your body for reacting because most of their attention was collectively on you now.

Meaning, they would inevitably notice small details.

And that they did. Yeonjun laughs, but it has laces of mean-spiritedness that has your brain frying at a faster speed. “You aren’t the only one. Our little dolls’ horny as shit too, aren’t you? Look at you rubbing your thighs for just the little bits of friction.” Yeonjun says the last part with a pout, so condescendingly, his eyes heavy lidded with what you’re sure is lust.

That gets Beomgyu’s attention, who was lost in his own dilemma, who’s close enough to touch you, to do something, and that has you more nervous than the time you had to present an unfinished slideshow to the harshest professor in your major.

Your throat is dry again, and you can’t seem to get out a word no matter how hard you try. Beomgyu licks his lips momentarily, staring at you, waiting for something, maybe a cue? You don’t know, but they’re both definitely waiting.

Beomgyu’s impatient, and shameless, if that wasn’t already obvious enough. With a rasp to his voice, he whispers, “God, I really wanna touch you right now.”

And you whisper back, like this was secret gossip you’d exchange between yourselves at recess about who was mean to who, who liked who, except this time you’re all grown up, and he’s asking to…touch you. You look behind Beomgyu, Yeonjun very much invested in what’s happening makes you on the fence. “But it’ll—it’ll get…weird. Like, between us.”

Beomgyu’s quick to counter. “No, no it won’t, I promise. Everything’s going to be the exact same. Just baby, please. Let me take care of you.”

The use of a petname again has you biting down on your lips. You search his eyes, and he looks so…desperate, the sudden switch baffling to you, so different from how you usually see him. Is this how he gets with the girls he fucks? It’s so hot, you’ve never been met with this much enthusiasm.

Your feelings heighten even more when he whispers again at your silence, “Please, I’m dying here.”

You let out a breath you were holding in, nodding, “Okay, it’s—it’s okay. You can. Touch me I mean.”

This is the absolute last thing in the world you’d ever expected, like ever. Beomgyu touching you, ministrating your breasts roughly with his big hands through your top, kneeling between your legs, kissing all over from your jaw to your neck like he hasn’t gotten action in decades. It’s like everywhere, your skin scorches, every inch—and he’s so fiery, so harsh with his squeezes and bites that you’re so unprepared for, so unprepared in fact that your eyes already brim with tears, head becoming light with too much stimulation in too little time as you feel him play with your shorts in attempt to take them off.

Suddenly, Beomgyu’s shoved off you completely, having him fall on his ass with a thud. Your eyes fly open in worry, only to be met with Yeonjun way closer to you than earlier. “Dude, calm down you’re going too fast.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes irritably, “You know you could’ve told me that without fucking throwing me off her, right?”

“Like your ass would listen.” Yeonjun mutters, refocusing his attention to you, “Come on, get up on the couch doll, I’ll show you how its done.”

You’re hesitant. You’re okay with messing around with Beomgyu—you are because he’s the best friend that you have zero romantic feelings for, but Yeonjun? You already have this…tiny crush on him that has been fostering since the dawn of times, a light lit then dimmed for years throughout the time you’ve known him…would this not set it on a full blown out fire? Are you ready to risk getting your rocks off to find out?

Yeonjun calls your name again, snapping you out of your reverie. “If you don’t want to I’m not gonna…”

“No no, um—sorry I was just, like, thinking. Sure.” you choke out, cheeks red.

Fuck it.

You situate yourself on the couch like he instructed, looking at Beomgyu for a second in semi-panic, but that horndogs too far gone to properly communicate with you through telepathy so you’re left a puddle, a little jittery as you nervously pick at the thread of the old couch, preparing yourself for whats to come.

Yeonjun smiles, slotting himself between your legs. “I’m gonna take it slow, ‘kay? Tell me if it becomes too much and I’ll stop.”

You nod, taking a deep breath then out to calm your nerves. You don’t have to help him out with pulling your shorts down, it’s like he’s so experienced that he knows how to get around it without you doing much. Which doesn’t help to make you relax…at all. He’s experienced, and you’re not. That’s a cause of a million worries running through your mind at the moment.

The air that had felt so hot earlier, feels cool now, and you shudder a little. “You’re drenched doll, that’s cute.”

Beomgyu finally sits himself next to you, hand on his crotch, slowly rubbing it out as he stares at what Yeonjun sees, craning his neck to get a good look. And you feel…so exposed, it makes your ears red with a mix of shame and arousal as you squeeze your eyes shut.

You jolt a little when you feel his tongue poking at your entrance through your panties—he’s slow as he licks up your slit, soaking your underwear more and more.

“Any of your boyfriends ever eat you out?” Beomgyu asks, hand squeezing his cock through his sweats, before having the genius idea of replacing his with yours—his warm hands resting on yours, guiding you to press down harder on his boner. As if he’s showing you—making you feel how big he is.

You shake your head to his question, and he airs out a chuckle. God, you really want to slap yourself for finding that so attractive. “Of course. Might as well be a real virgin.”

You want to retort back, you really do, because god forbid Beomgyu have the last word, but it's impossible when Yeonjun hooks his finger to push your underwear to the side because you're a goner, a goner the minute you feel his warm breath on your skin, and even worse when you feel his tongue lapping at your core, the direct contact making you gasp out a moan, jolting you awake, clearing your drunk daze.

"Yeonjun, Yeonjun shit-" you don't mean to tighten your grip on Beomgyu, but you do in response to Yeonjuns stimulation which has him hiss, bucking into your touch.

"Do that again. Harder. Touch me baby, yeah, just like that." He babbles, holding onto your wrist, groaning when you oblige, wrapping your hand on his clothed shaft and squeezing the base.

Yeonjun looks at you through lidded eyes, his hands firmly keeping your legs apart, nose brushing against your clit every so often to tease before he finally decides to flatten his tongue against it, finger prodding at your entrance at the same time, making you inexpectantly arch your back, moaning. "F-fuck Jjun!"

You could feel the smirk, the cockiness radiating off him— it oozes even, it's so evident he likes this dynamic, you so reactionary to each little thing he does.

Beomgyu helps you palm his dick before he finally relents, too horny out of his mind, shoving your hand down his pants, making you feel his hot dick, so sticky and wet, it's lewd. "'Move your hand baby, c'monnn. Good girl." He groans, trying to guide you to a speed he finds fitting.

You start getting the hang of it, your hand jerking off his dick without help even as you're practically dumbed out with Yeonjun's tongue working at your sex, trying to purposefully make you lose your mind.

“Pussy so good doll, so good.” his words muffle against your core and it sends a vibration that has your pace falter.

Suddenly, Yeonjun detaches, making you feel terribly empty, and horrible because you were sure you were close. Before you could complain, your eyes widen at him unbuttoning his jeans, dropping them to the floor to have his cock flinging out of his boxers. He gives it a couple strokes, breathing heavy as he stares at your pussy. Wet with his spit, messy. He groans, biting his lips raw and you’ve just never felt so much as a prey until now. “Gonna fill you up soon, don’t worry doll.”

“Pay attention to me too,” Beomgyu whines, kissing your neck again, the space under your earlobe, his teeth grazing against your skin, just begging to have your attention. “Unfair if it’s only him.” he breathes, kissing and kissing and kissing, until he decides to move up to your lips, taking you up a wind as you jerk his dick off faster.

His whines and mewls melt into the sloppiness of the kiss and god is it the hottest thing ever, shit.

Yeonjun basically breaks the kiss by pushing Beomgyu off of you again, and if you had half the mind to think, you would’ve caught the irritation radiating off Beomgyu at Yeonjuns constant cock blocking.

You can’t think now, not when Yeonjun’s lining his dick up with your hole, feeling his hot tip prodding and your pussy fluttering around nothing to suck him in. “Ready? Relax yourself so it’ll feel good, ‘kay?”

You nod, humming.

“Words princess.”

“I’m—I’m ready Jjunie.”

He gives you a crooked grin, fingertips digging into the plush of your hips.

You try, you really do, you try giving them both an experience but the more Yeonjun pushes himself in you, the slower your hand becomes until you finally let go, breathing heavy at the inexplicable feeling of just…fullness. When he’s flush and snug against your core, completely inside you, he relishes, he stays there, eyes fluttering closed with his face so, so close to yours.

And he whispers to you, words Beomgyu can’t possible hear even if he wishes to, and even words you could’ve missed if you weren’t so in tune with every single sense that you’re feeling right now.

“Wish he wasn’t here when I could finally have you.”

You’re driven over the edge, not even given the time to process, before he’s drilling his dick into you—in then back, slowly before he’s building up to snapping his hips, having you gasp in shock at each thrust. You let the stray tear run down, hell, at this point you’re giving all autonomy of your body to the two boys right now, you’re not in control of anything anymore.

“Tight, so tight and warm,” he groans, getting faster, “Shoulda prepped you more, huh? Fuckin’ tighter than a virgin, can barely move.” He laughs breathy.

You just nod, nod at whatever filthy shit he says, tightening your grip on the couch, squeezing your eyes shut at how the pain just bleeds into the pleasure. You’ve never had it like this with your past boyfriends, it never felt like this.

Suddenly, you feel something hot poking at your cheek which spurs you to open your eyes. Your eyes damn near almost bulge out at Beomgyu’s size, cock insistently trying to move past your lips.

“Want your mouth, please, fuck.”

Can you even take that in your mouth?

He doesn’t wait for your contemplation, that’s not Beomgyu’s thing. He does it anyway, managing to slide his dick in your mouth, not even letting you get used to it like Yeonjun had even when he’s a lot bigger, pushing all the way in. He throws his head back, groaning curses as you gag around his length, breathing restricted.

“God you’re so hot like this, princess. Taking my cock so well,” he growls, moving his hips to fuck your mouth. Your eyes water, burning as the taste of him overpowers your senses— all of that paired with Yeonjun’s rhythm getting rougher and more frantic has you lose yourself in ecstasy you don’t think you can handle.

You think you might just faint.

“Have you always been like this? So good at sucking cock, slutty throat just waiting to be stuffed with dick?” Beomgyu rambles filth, losing himself faster than Yeonjun, looking down at you with so much hunger. You return his gaze, blinking up at him innocently, as if to disagree. You’re not slutty, you aren’t.

But that seems to spur him on a completely different direction, like something snapped inside him, cursing loudly as he ruthlessly starts fucking into your mouth. Your mind clouds, dizziness setting in as you feel Yeonjun attach his lips to your nipple through your flimsy top, sucking harshly, making a mess of your shirt with his spit.

You garble around Beomgyu’s dick, trying to say something but it only comes out intelligible and like complete nonsense, it’s humiliating.

“God, you’re sucking me in so greedily, want me to fill you up with my cum so bad, huh?”

Yeonjun slaps your ass and you jolt again, snot and mascara running down your face. He starts kneeding your cheeks, snapping into you rougher, and somehow deeper, you fucking lose it. “You want it so bad, right? Say something baby, or I won’t give it to you.”

You nod, mouth still stuffed with Beomgyu’s cock, who he isn’t intent on stopping any time soon.

It’s enough for Yeonjun you guess because before you know it, you feel hot substance shoot up, filling you to the brim with his cum, still pumping it in even as your orgasm washes over you. You’re beyond overstimulated, especially when Beomgyu cums around the same time, his hot load forcing its way down your throat.

He holds your head against his abdomen, groaning the more he defills you. “Fuck if you do that I might just fall for you,” he growls, voice down octaves, fixating his eyes on how your throat gulps down his cum like it’s water at the Sahara. The taste is so strong, you start coughing up some of it out when his dick flops out of your mouth sticky, finally regaining your breath, gasping for air in large amounts, your cunt spilling Yeonjun’s seed onto the couch slowly, dribbling down to the floor to make a mess.

Beomgyu suddenly pushes Yeonjun out of the way to slot himself between your legs, kissing at your pussy.

“Beomgyu, don’t, can’t—stop, too much-” you try reasoning but he doesn’t listen, that brat. He just starts going at it, lapping at the cum spilling, his lips glistening with the wetness, alternating between kissing and licking your cunt. “‘Course you can baby, you can take it.”

You bite down hard on your lips, lightheaded as you look down at the man ravaging your pussy and cleaning you up at the same time.

To hell with that ‘nothing’s going to change’ bullshit promise, something definitely changed tonight and you can’t put your finger around what.

[swanlakebaby]

— getting spanked | pjm

prompt: jimin spanking you and then deepthroating you

⸝⸝ pairing: dom!jimin x sub!reader

⸝⸝ warnings: spanking, deepthroating, cumming, orgasm, nsfw, dom jimin, sub reader, hair pulling

⸝⸝ word count: 787

⸝⸝ note: i'm back! i had a lot of trouble these past few months finding motivation to write something. i've also just been VERY busy as well and focusing on other hobbies. i'm hoping to be more active now :D if you have any requests, please send them in!

nsfw, 18+, minors dni

-

you gasp at the sudden force as jimin grabs onto your arm and pulls you closer to him , an angry look in his eyes. ''are you serious!?'' he says in a low and chilling voice. you look up at him , quiet and trying not to choke on the big lump in your throat.

his face twitches , growing even more frustrated with how unresponsive you were being. his grip tightens on you as he pulls you behind him , leading you to the couch. he pushes you down roughly and stands in front of you , an evil glare in his eyes. you sit there in shame , twirling the fabric of your blouse in between your fingers. you felt anxious , knowing a punishment was coming. you were unsure of what specifically he was going to do this time but you knew jimin always had something up his sleeve and would figure it out.

he begins to pace back and forth slowly , his arms crossed and his eyes furrowed. ''you know what.'' he says , suddenly stopping and looking towards you after a few moments of tense silence. ''let's change things a bit.'' he walks over to the couch and sits down. ''come here.'' he demands coldly. you listen and start getting close to him. he grabs at your hair , positioning you over his lap , only letting go when he's satisfied.

you feel cold air on your cheeks as he lifts your skirt over them. you hear him suck in a breath and relaxing his body a little bit. you gasp , jolting forward at the sudden sting of pain as jimin hits your butt. he does it again , and again , and again until you're crying out in pain. ''why do you like to provoke me?'' he asks. you stay silent , knowing that he doesn't want a real answer. he smacks your butt again , grabbing one of your cheeks with aggressive force.

''i wanted a good night , believe it or not.'' he says , giving your butt another smack. ''but you just had to misbehave.'' jimin smacks your butt again. ''i--'' you start. jimin silences you , smacking you yet again. ''is it on purpose? do you like to see me annoyed? do you like to be punished? i don't get it.'' his voice softens a little , before he regains control and smacks your butt once more , making you jump. your butt felt hot and on fire , you knew you'd be quite sore later.

''come.'' he says , standing up and pushing you onto your knees. he begins unbuckling his pants , quickly taking out his cock. he strokes himself a little , getting himself hard. he roughly grabs onto your hair , positioning your face in front of his crotch. ''open.'' he says , tightening his grip on your hair. you do as he says. he stuffs himself into your mouth. you tightly grip onto his pants , shutting your eyes at the force he was using.

he looks down at you for a moment , smirking almost. he begins to slowly thrust into your mouth. he groans in a low and husky tone before eventually picking up the pace. your hair tangled up in his fingers , he pulls it as he fucks your mouth roughly. he pulls back for a moment and lets go of your hair. he grabs your chin and forces you to look up at him. ''is this what you want? me to do this to you?'' he asks mockingly. you nod and he grabs control of your hair again , thrusting inside of it relentlessly.

your saliva coats his entire cock , turning him on even more now. strings fly out of your mouth and drip onto the floor as he shows you no mercy. suddenly he grunts before grabbing hold of your chin again , squeezing it and smirking down at you as he continues to fuck your mouth.

you keep holding onto his lowered pants with a tight grip as you gag on his inches. he doesn't slow down , enjoying the sight of your eyes watering from below him. he lets go of your chin and quickly pulls his cock out of your mouth. strings of cum fly out and land on your lips and cheek as jimin moans out loudly , basking in pleasure.

''fuck..'' he says under his breath. you look up at him , cum coating your lips like glue. he relaxes a bit and rubs his thumb along the side of your cheek with a small smile. he pulls you back up , watching as you slowly lick your lips and clean his cum off of your face.

-

written by swanlakebaby™

[callmelola111]

loser!ellie ♡ dating app headcanons

synopsis: totally sfw hc’s of loser!ellie (modern au) on dating apps, including a cute little 1st date scenario. basically just pure fluff !!!

      | 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 1.4k

a/n: never written headcanons before, crazy ass shit. idk if i did it exactly right but i think it will be an entertaining read no matter what. i’ve recently caved and downloaded hinge which is what inspired this---but there’s only like 40 gay bitches on there and that’s it (also like no mascs?? i’m attracted to any kind of non-man but still,,, the shortage is real y’all). ALSO let me know if this is something you’d like a nsfw/smut part 2 of. much loveeee ♡~ lola

| ❀ | loser!ellie who took weeks of convincing from dina and jesse to finally download hinge after she wouldn’t shut up about how she’s “never beating the loser lesbian allegations”. truly she could have any girl she wants but just doesn’t know how to speak to them in real life. they were so fed up with her bullshit.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who only has like 3 pictures of her actual face so the rest of the photos on her hinge profile are just art pics and gay memes

| ❀ | loser!ellie who had to beg dina for help writing all the little prompts just to reject all her ideas because she’d “never say something like that!”

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who started getting so cocky as soon as those likes began to roll in. saying some shit like “ooo i have rizz” in the cringiest way possible. jesse just says it’s cause there’s a masc lesbian shortage and of course she flips him off in response.

| ❀ | loser!ellie whose cockiness immediately leaves her body when she realizes she has to go through the likes and accept/reject every girl. eventually she just gave up and stopped looking because it felt “too mean” and like “too much work”.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who SUCKS at responding to messages and likes after she lost all interest about 2 days into having the app. that is until she stumbled upon your profile…

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - - 

| ❀ | loser!ellie whose glued to her notifications after she matched with you on hinge. at this point you’re her fixation, and every other message besides yours are going unanswered. as soon as she works up the courage to ask for your number, and you oblige, she immediately deletes the app.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who stares at her screen for like 5 minutes straight at the first text message she plans to send you, even though it was literally just “hey, is this y/n?”. she even googled the difference in connotations between hi, hey, and hello. it’s safe to say the girl is straight up mental about you.

| ❀ | loser!ellie who gets more and more unhinged as y’all get better acquainted with each other through texts. eventually she's spamming you with updates about her day, instagram memes that she thinks are funny, and an occasional flirty message—but of course, she’s waiting for that first date to really test the romantic waters. like yes she’s obsessed with you, but to the extent where she’s so scared to screw things up so every little move she makes is with caution and regard to your feelings and boundaries. it’s honestly super sweet.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who eventually asked you on a first date after you sent like 3 different flirty memes to get the point across that you like her a lot and wanna be taken out for real. you definitely were sending her some shit like this…

| ❀ | loser!ellie who planned out a whole agenda for y’alls first date so it would be absolutely perfect. she refused to tell you where she was taking you or what you guys would be doing because she thought it would be better as a surprise. and although you were kinda stressing about what to wear and what to expect, the element of mystery was kind of endearing.

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - - 

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who pulls up to your house in her little beat up sedan that she had cleaned for like the first time ever just before she came and picked you up. there was still clearly some reminisce of her mess as seen on the stained seats and crumbs on the floor, but you didn’t mind—yours was just as bad (probably worse).

| ❀ | loser!ellie who took you out for sushi as the first stop on your date, to which she graciously paid for even with you fighting to put your card down on the table first. she looked so adorable with her little california roll, and even cuter when she accidentally got too much wasabi in a bite and was fiending for water while simultaneously trying to play it cool in front of you. you just laughed which immediately made her feel better about the whole thing. 

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who then took you to your town’s expansive park to walk the dirt trails and just talk. neither of you had ever gotten along with someone so well, the conversation was absolutely effortless. you talked about all your interests, funny life stories, your fears, and so much more. ellie listened attentively with nods and affirmations throughout which made you feel so cared for, something most girls on dating apps could never do. you extended the courtesy back and ellie told you all about her own stuff, including her obsession with space, to which she pulled out her favorite book on the topic to show you. space had never really piqued your interest before, but when it was coming out of the freckled girl's mouth, it seemed like the coolest thing in the world.

| ❀ | loser!ellie who sat next to you on one of the park’s wooden benches. time had flown by and neither of you had realized until your head was resting on her shoulder as the sun set in front of you. the orange cast hit her auburn hair just right and it looked like she was practically glowing. you couldn’t help but stare at her beauty which she noticed and with a concerned look questioned if she had anything on her face. you informed ellie of the trance she had put you in and she blushed the color of your pink nails just before leaning in to give you the most tender, loving kiss you’d ever received.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who couldn’t stop kissing you once she started. your lips remained locked with hers for a solid 5 minutes, lips puffy and saliva exchanging, until the sound of a dog barking a few feet away broke the exchange. the energy had shifted in the best way possible and the both of you quickly opened up about how much you liked one another. one thing lead to another and suddenly ellie has out her pocket knife and is carving an E + R (reader) into the wood of the park bench. how lesbian of you guys ♡

| ❀ | loser!ellie who didn’t want the date to end and you were right there with her, so you somehow found yourselves in an empty parking lot at 9:00pm, drinking slurpees while she tried to teach you how to skate. it started off as a real attempt with her teaching you the basics like where to put your feet and the importance of bending your knees. after about 4 different falls onto the dirty asphalt you gave up on your genuine pursuits. discouraged, you sat right down on the board, knees up, before ellie gave you a push and you rolled across the lot. she was laughing her ass off and you were too until you hit a bump and tumbled off. 

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who bolted into the CVS the parking lot belonged to and bought a bunch of unnecessary first aid items for the small cut on your knee. she came back out of the sliding doors and you died of laughter as she pulled out a box of peppa pig bandaids for your skating “injury”. ellie insisted you needed to be taken care of though, so you let her do her thing and she finished it off with a small peck to the cap of your knee and one on your forehead.

| ❀ | loser!ellie who spent the trip back to your place with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, driving you absolutely wild. you almost had to remind yourself that this was just the first date.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who had been parked in your driveway for 10 minutes already but continued to stall your departure with more of her shenanigans. soon she ran out of things to say though and leaned over to kiss you goodbye. this goodbye turned into more and you ended up in her lap before the night was over. it wasn’t until your back hit the steering wheel making the car honk that you finally exited the vehicle. 

| ❀ | loser!ellie who waited for you to completely make it inside before she drove home, giving you a final little wave as you opened the front door. after she was back at her place she instantly texted you about date 2 and thanked you for the best night of her life. in her eyes, you were a keeper!

✄ - - - -   masterlist   - - - -   ♡

taglist...

@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss @robinismywifee @sophlovesbooks @97cityy

(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)

[t0rturedangel]

I wanted to request a Rick x reader if it's ok with you? Were they going to the citadel and since there's no readers there other Rick may try and talk to the reader? Who knows, maybe they get jealous of Rick and try to take the reader because since there Rick they like the reader too. (By the way feel free to ignore but to let you know I really LOVE your writing, it's so accurate and I hope this motivates you to keep it up)

𝟎𝟎𝟏. 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧

⠀⠀⠀: ᯓ 𝟎𝟎𝟐.⠀ C-137 RICK SANCHEZ X READER

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟑. SYNOPSIS, Rick wasn't not too keen on bringing you to the citadel, and this is why

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟒. WARNINGS, Rick Sanchez, other ricks, swearing, possibly ooc, one rick gets a lil freaky with you, a rick dies.

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟓. AUTHOR'S NOTES, I'm on that grind rn, posting as much as I can while I still have the motivation. also I LOVE THIS REQUEST!! AHHH I'll happily do it!!

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤYour curiosity of the citadel started when MORTY had accidently mentioned it- he had been complaining about all the scams he found there when you overheared, quickly prompting you to immediately ask questions about it- RICK never told you anything about this citadel so obviously you were curious. MORTY had no idea RICK was keeping the citadel hidden from you for a reason and thus he happily began to explain about the citadel until he was caught by RICK.

"W-w-what the hell Morty?!" RICK pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes narrowed at his morty- teeth practically gritting together in annoyence causing the teen boy to quickly question why his grandpa was suddenly even more angry with him "W-what?" He asked, slowly getting nervous as Rick groaned, ignoring your puzzled and equaly annoyed look, "They weren't supposed to find out about the citadel Morty!" Your Rick burped, now dragging his hand down his face "W-w-w-well I-I-I didn't know that!" Morty defended himself just before you voiced your opinion "Rick why have you never told me about the citadel? Meeting other me's would be so cool!" "No it wouldn't be... trust me [name] I know" "Maybe for you" you rolled your eyes, resting your elbow on Morty's shoulder (who was nervously looking between you and Rick). "Take me to the citadel Rick" you commaned after a short pause, immediately getting a shake of the said and a stern 'no' from Rick "What the fuck, why? You take Morty!" "It isn't the same with you as it is with Morty." "I dont care" "Neither do I but-" "So?"

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤyou two began to bicker about it, with you being insistant on going to the damned citadel while RICK came up with any and every excuse on why you should not and could not go- "they have man-eating cows so you'd be eaten immediately" was one of them, quite a stupid one you must admit but you quickly contrasted it "Okay? so i'll bring a gun!" and that went on for hours.... and then eventually days until RICK eventually gave up.

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤThat's how you ended up in the citadel. Wandering about like a child with your RICK close behind, glaring at every other rick who even glanced your way.

You looked around, eyes shining with curiosity and awe at each building and piece of technology you found (which was every where) "What the fuck Rick, why didn't you show me this place sooner!" "Because this place sucks?" you decided not to answer your boyfriend and instead run around some more, unintentionally ignoring RICK- who's voice was getting quieter and quieter until you couldn't hear it anymore. So now you found yourself by a train station, looking at all the different ricks, most wearing factory worker clothes which struck you as being odd, aren't all rick's smart asf? why are they dressed like that? Your overly curious nature led you to one of them, poking him in the shoulder for his attention. Your contact with him startled that rick, he quickly snapped his head to you- getting ready to shout at whoever was disturbing him until he processed your face- his eyes widening in, what you assumed to be, awe "a-a [name]?!" He bleched, asking like you were some damn pokemon "whats good" was your simple, yet slightly annoyed reply. "H-how did you get here? [n-names] are so rare" He questioned, a grimy hand getting closer to your face, possibly to examine it which was something you did not appriciate so thus you leant back. "Woah hands off" You held up your hands, trying to form a distance between you and the rick- which had somehow caught the attention of the other ricks who were staring at you with wide eyes, you could practically hear their shocked whispers which also consisted of 'a [name]?' 'when did a [name] get here?' 'where is their rick?' what the fuck are they talking about? and just as you were about to leg it in the opposite direction, one of the ricks- in an extremely expensive suit- walked up to you "Where is your rick?" his voice seemed posh, he didn't stutter and definately didn't have that alcoholic stench you were familiar with "uh... he's over- shit." you looked behind you, hoping to see your boyfriend yet was met with nothing.

"So your rick has left you? Meaning you're up for grabs?" "what the shit??? NO. My rick hasn't left me ass-face, and I'm not 'up for grabs' like a damn toy! Go find another [name]!" You gritted your teeth, clearly irritated by how you were talked about like you were an object "I can't just 'find another [name]' thats impossible, nearly all [names] are gone." the rick rolled his eyes, matching your irritation "But either way, why would you want to stay with whoever your rick is when you could be with me? I'm one of the citadels bet buissness men, I could treat you well" the way he was talking was making you sick to your stomach "Eat ass dude, My rick is brilliant! I dont need a replacement!" "Well clearly--" "-- you need to get the fuck away from [name]" a new, yet exact name, voice intergected the posh rick's statement, angering him "Just who the hell do you think you are?" "RICK OH MY GOD." You practically threw yourself to your rick, desperate to get out of the situation you were in- something that made all the other rick's (appart from the posh one) to let out defeated sighs and revert to how they were before you appeared. "So you're their rick? You seem pathetic." "The only thing pathetic here is that you think you can take my s/o" Your Rick jeered, crossing his arms "Well I can If I want to, you fucking alcoholic--" thankfully, the rick was quickly cut off, as the sound of a gun fired through the station- earning a small gasp from you and annoyed yells from the alive ricks.

"Come on [name]" Your rick grabbed your hand, before shooting a portal and walking through it "You didn't have to--" "-- He was getting on my nerves, I hate those types of Ricks.." "I see why.. but Rick, why did he say that nearly all of mes are gone?". You saw Rick physically stiffen up, before he shook his head "You'll find out later, I can't be asked to tell you right now." and while you were tempted to bother him about the topic, you had learnt that It's best to listen to him, at least for now. With a sigh, you plopped down on the sofa- next to your boyfriend "I will never go there again." "Yeah, see, what do I keep telling you all? I'm the smartest man in the universe and I know what I'm talking about ALWAYS, dumb pieces of shit" He sighed not even looking your way "Yeah yeah.. let's just watch some interdementional cable" You snatched the remote from the ground and began to switch through the channels, "WAIT, [name] go back! go fucking back! I saw ball fondlers!"

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤWhile RICK will never admit it, he is glad that you are never going back to the citadel- makes it easier for him to control his jealousy.

[photo1030]

Heyyy I have a suggestion to make it’s kinda stupid whatever so it takes place at the mayor’s party where Arthur Morgan and Dutch is meeting mr Bronte and reader come running to Mr Bronte for some random reason and sense she’s wearing a corset she can’t get all the air in her lungs AND SHE PAST OUT so Arthur or Dutch (I LUV THEM BOTH teehee) gotta RIPS her out the corset.. that’s all I got LOVE YOUR WRITING BTWW MWAH! ❤️❤️❤️

Hi there @lizzie2980 So sorry this has taken me forever. Thank you for being so kind and patient (and hopefully still interested?) This was a great prompt, had a lot of fun with this one.

This is a bit out of the canon story, hopefully that is OK. This is a little bit of flirty and protective Arthur, with a smidge of charming Dutch in there...lovely combo, if you ask me....which you did...(This is not part of my existing fic, Leather and Lace, btw)

(The images used here were found on a lovely blog that is apparently designed to help fanworks. Check it out! Thank you to whoever put that together. https://reddeadreference.tumblr.com/post/679731317406072832/the-gilded-cage )

*Special thanks to @appalachiancowboy99 for being my sounding board.

DON’T MAKE A SCENE 

Summary:  You are at Angelo Bronte’s house for a fancy garden party when you meet a certain group of outlaws.

Your hands clamp down tighter as the plump elderly matron apologetically yanks the strings of the restrictive corset. Nails of already shaky fingers dig into the wooden bedpost that you use to support yourself with as you stand on wavering feet. You wince on the verge of painful tears as Bridget stands behind you and pulls the threads of the already too tight garment even tighter still, testing the limits of its stitching and causing a gasp to quickly get sucked into your folded-up lungs with each pull.

Sunset has already begun, the brilliant orange disc settling itself softly behind the horizon line for the day, and your room slowly dims to a pastel dusk as you get ready, the wall sconces glowing against the ivory painted walls of your lavish private quarters inside Angelo Bronte’s mansion. The garden party below will be starting any minute, and the shadows that dance along the walls inside the house mask the dread inside your chest. It is as if your hope and spirit are diminishing with the quickly-fading sun. You are hoping that Bridget doesn’t see the trepidation creeping into your expression as she flits about you, but the older woman is too shrewd for that. 

“You know...Mr. Bronte…he isn’t going to wait much longer for you”, she murmurs as her weathered fingers begin to run over your frame, smoothing out the fabric of your dress, picking at errant threads. “He will eventually want what he feels he is due.”

The obvious statement hits your gut like a prize-fighter’s punch. “I know,” you utter with a dejected sigh, your voice almost a whimper in the air.

The thought of the man’s pock-marked, oily skin against your own makes you sick to your stomach. It would be like a vile lizard rubbing up against you. 

But Bridget is not unsympathetic to your situation. She is definitely a woman of experienced years, as the graying hair of her loosely tied-up bun gives testament to. And she knows a thing or two from her twenty-some years in service to upper-society households. 

“You know, sometimes when you’re a woman, you just have to do what you have to do. Close your eyes and let your mind go somewhere else when it’s happening.” She waves her hand dismissively in the air as if speaking about the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. “Just tune it all out, let the man have his way, and then it will all be over quickly. In fact, it’s usually over quicker than you think.” She gives you a whimsical wink as a sharp cackle snaps out of her throat at her own joke. Whether Bridget is speaking specifically about Bronte, or any man for that matter, you are not sure, as this seems to have the feel of a rehearsed speech she has given many times over.

When Bridget sees the distaste of such a thing clearly coating your face as you silently stand there with your hands fidgeting over themselves, she continues.

“If you’re clever enough, you could let him have what he wants, but then have something for yourself on the side, you know.” 

Your eyes immediately shoot up to hers to find that knowing twinkle in her eye. The thought causes a humorless huff from your lips. 

“I can barely manage to look after myself, Bridget. I couldn’t manage that cat-and-mouse game.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugs and continues to primp and preen your outfit. 

Despite the odd advice, you are grateful for Bridget’s counsel. She is the only friend you have here in Angelo Bronte’s mansion. You are not a hostage per se, but he has made his opinions very clear on how he feels about a woman, especially one indebted to him, leaving the premises to socialize without him as your escort and chaperone; so improper, so ungrateful. 

It is especially warm tonight on the evening of the garden party that Mr. Bronte has been planning for weeks now. The whole household buzzes with excitement and anticipation for the fancy event, despite the sweltering weather. St. Denis is dreadfully hot and muggy, making it difficult to breathe on a good day. You’re not used to such heat. You come from the northern state of Massachusetts, which is much cooler. The heat here is bad enough, but the humidity clings to the air like a wet blanket. 

And this damn dress doesn’t help in the slightest. 

The dress that Angelo Bronte hand-picked for you to wear tonight is way too tight, making you lightheaded already. You watch in the full-length mirror as the constricting fabric pulls your body into shape under Bridget’s strong, able fingers, transforming your voluptuous figure into an hourglass. A deep midnight blue hued fabric that shimmers in the light is cut to hug and accent your physique, leaving little to the imagination of the observer. 

If the origins of the dress weren’t so distasteful, you may have very well liked the beautiful gown that currently clings to your form and drapes over your hips in a cascade of silk. But you know Bronte did not provide this gown to please you. No, he did it for his own inflated ego. Bronte will parade you around tonight like a prized horse out of his stable, showing you off to all in tonight’s attendance. And he’ll treat you as such too - like something he’s purchased and owns outright.

You curse yourself for letting yourself get into this situation. You hate that you have to rely on this man for a place to live. You arrived new to St. Denis a month ago and were promptly robbed upon arrival, leaving you with nothing. So much for civilization. 

Bronte noticed you at the train station, frazzled and lost, and totally beside yourself as to what you would do now. You came here with no relatives, no contacts, just the promise of jobs and new adventure out West from an ad you saw in the newspaper back home. The man quickly made your acquaintance, preying like a vulture on your vulnerable situation. He was charming with a note of authority, like he knew exactly what to do and where to go. But it quickly became apparent that he offered you his home as a sanctuary in hopes to win your affections. You’ve managed to play coy for awhile, however, agreeing to be on his arm and accompany him to various social functions in town in exchange for residency in his home. But you have denied the man what he wants most - you in his bed. 

An involuntary sigh passes your cherry lips as Bridget takes your hand in hers, patting it in the same way a grandmother comforts her troubled grandchild, and leads you to the vanity along the opposite wall so she can set your hair. Your body mindlessly drifts to the tapestry-padded stool, like a lost flower petal in the wind, void of any energy or enthusiasm. 

Bridget’s nimble fingers curl your hair and pin it back to showcase your pretty face, adding in beautiful crystal clips for decoration and she even weaves a few flower buds from the garden into your locks. You sit silently in front of the vanity mirror with a blank stare, a melancholy overtaking your soul as you watch her prepare you to be the perfect accessory to the rich man’s life. The motherly woman’s presence comforts you, but she is also serving you up to the master of the house like a slice of beef on a silver platter for him to devour. 

“There, now. Don’t you just look breathtaking?” she breaths in awe. The deep-set lines around Bridget’s hazel-colored eyes crinkle as she admires her masterpiece. Your eyes refocus to catch the old woman’s proud gaze in the mirror, and then back over your own reflection.

“Yes, Bridget,” you whisper with a sad smile, your lower lip quivering just slightly. “You did a fine job. Thank you for your help tonight.” She catches the reluctance in your fluttering eyes and can only nod in agreement. She lovingly pats your arm in an attempt to comfort your growing uneasiness. 

“Well, I had better get downstairs and tend to the kitchen, then. Don’t hide up here too long, miss.” And she wipes her hands on her apron as her wide hips carry her to the bedroom door before she slips out and you are alone with your thoughts once again. 

With a deep sigh, you haul yourself up to stand. You swish the heavy fabric of your dress-skirts to the side to allow you to amble over to the balcony doors of your private room. Pulling the double-doors open wide with both hands, you step out onto the freshly painted wood as a rush of humid air hits you like a wall, causing you to take a brief pause to try to catch your breath. Your hands eventually find their place upon the smooth railing as you step up to the edge to look out over the balcony at the garden party below. 

Jovial music floats up to your ears from the string quartet that is playing on the patio beneath you. String lights delicately criss-cross over the open garden area, resembling a net that has caught a thousand fire-flies. Bronte’s guests have already started to arrive and their chatter fills the air, alternating with the clinks of champagne flutes. You casually observe as greedy fingers grab at the delectable food and free alcohol that is meticulously displayed along elegant tables that dot across the property, the delicious aromas wafting through the evening air. 

The scene laid out before you is like a page out of the society section of the newspapers. Always over-the-top, always impressive, Angelo Bronte spares no expense in his functions. Decadent food, expensive wines, extravagant decor. Always to impress the upper echelon of society. And yet, you have no desire to mingle with the high-society of St. Denis. From what you’ve seen, it’s hardly impressive to you. 

You watch with disinterest over the crowd, observing from the elevated vantage point as people collect in small groups, then turn to whisper to each other like conniving socal piranhas the moment one of the fold turns to leave to join another circle. With a scornful roll of your eyes, you have no idea how you are going to make it through this evening unscathed. 

And then, a collection of unknown men catch your eye. You’ve never seen them in Bronte’s circle before. And they clearly don’t belong. Under closer observation, this is an assembly of rugged looking gentlemen, a sharp contrast to the other guests in attendance tonight. Though they may have donned fancy tuxedos and hats, the way they carry themselves indicates they are not used to wearing such garb. Their eyes nervously shift all around instead of at whoever is addressing them as if more interested in what is happening around them rather than trying to assert social connections. Your bottom lip gets pulled between your teeth as your curious gaze lingers on them, trying to determine if they were invited or snuck in with the crowd.

As if he can feel your eye on him with the sixth sense of a trained outlaw, Arthur instinctively looks away from the men he is standing with and looks up towards the balcony of the great house and notices you. He doesn’t smile or even move for that matter, other than a single eyebrow lift as if in confusion. Your breath catches a bit at being caught staring. But yet you cannot bring yourself to break eye contact with the startling blue eyes gazing back at you from across the garden. And you can’t help the soft smile that blooms across your blushing cheeks at the ruggedly handsome man. 

When the mystery man eventually turns his attention back to his companions, you shake your head back to reality and decide you’ve stalled long enough. It’s time to begin to make your way down to the garden party and get this over with. You leisurely stroll along the length of the wrap-around balcony of the house to the stairs that will carry you down to the patio. Your hand has to grip the railing of the staircase as you walk, as your dress is so tight that descending the stairs makes you out of breath. The boning of the corset digs painfully into your ribs and hipbones as you move. Such a dreadful, masochistic thing, you wonder why on earth women put themselves through such torture for the sake of fashion. Once at the bottom, you attempt to take a deep breath, bringing your fingertips to your temples before bracing yourself to join the guests. 

First order of business, you scan the crowd to locate your host. It takes a few minutes, but you eventually lock-in on him when you hear his boisterous, condescending laugh echoing over the throng of people. Angelo Bronte really is a toad of a man. And despite his money and power, he is rather socially inept. Maybe it’s the fact that he's not from this country. Or maybe society is held differently in Italy. But either way, the elite here in St. Denis have mixed feelings about the wealthy man. Mixed as in, they like his wealth but do not care for the man. And that is where you come in. 

Bronte’s idea is that having a beautiful, refined and charming woman on his arm will make him appear more distinguished. Your role in this little arrangement with him is to be the doting young paramore, helping him to navigate the social circles. No one needs to be the wiser that the two of you sleep in separate rooms on completely different ends of the house. But for appearances sake, Angelo Bronte has acquired himself quite the crown jewel with your presence. 

As you meander through the crowd, you keep getting intercepted by random party guests, each one handing you a new glass of champagne. Your eye catches Bronte’s a few times as you mingle, as he checks to make sure you are performing as expected. Of course, the witty jokes, effervescent laughing and demure little smiles that emanate from you work according to plan. You can see Bronte pointing you out to guests from across the garden, a crude grin of approval splitting across the faces of the men he leans into, all chattering with hushed tones and hungry eyes. It’s enough to make your corset-restricted stomach turn. 

After about forty five minutes of false chuckles and empty smiles, you are desperate for fresh air and peace and quiet, so you discreetly head to the rose garden which is off to the right side of the party, hoping to find less people there.

Wandering aimlessly through the maze of hedges and rose bushes, you manage to find a quiet little corner away from prattling visitors and raise your tired eyes to the heavens above. The smog of St. Denis covers the night sky and it leaves you with a heavy feeling of disappointment that even the vast galaxy of stars is being kept from you in this dreadful place. With a dispirited sigh, your tear-misted eyes slowly roll shut, attempting to find some sort of solitude from this hell on earth. 

“Is this a safe place to hide?”

The sound of a deep, gravelly voice suddenly cuts into your mind, causing your eyes to snap open as you spin to see who is speaking to you. 

And there he is. The handsome fellow who you were staring at from the balcony. He stands quietly, a slight smirk of amusement on his face. It takes you a few moments to realize that he is indeed real, no fantasy apparition to come to stand before you. Confused blinks skitter across your face as you take in the sight of him. Now that you are up close to him, you can see just how tall and broad-shouldered he is. 

“Sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he offers when you hesitate to answer, his simple apology carrying little fanfare or bravado. Just a simple statement with no malice, no ill-content and no agenda towards you. 

“Oh…no…you didn’t startle me,” you manage to stammer as you try to regain your composure.

The stranger’s ocean-blue eyes float across your frame, head to toe, assessing you with a slight tilt of his head.  “You sure about that?” he jokes as he gives you a deeper smirk now.

Picking up on his genuine humor, you release the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. “No, you’re fine,” you assure him. “I just needed a minute, is all. I didn’t expect anyone to be back here.” 

When you lob a smile back at him in return, Arthur takes a gamble and begins to move slightly closer to you, specifically intent on maintaining this conversation. “Hmm, needing to get away from the herd? Is that it?”

The term causes a chuckle to erupt out of your throat. “Yeah, something like that.” You begin to step towards him as well, both of you moving slowly yet purposefully towards the other to close the gap between you until you are about three feet from each other. The air surrounding the garden is like that before a thunderstorm, exhilarating because it could be both beautiful and dangerous at the same time. The two of you stand quietly, simply staring at the other like a couple of clumsy teenagers not knowing what to say. 

“No offense, but you don’t seem like you belong here,” you finally break the amorous spell with a raised eyebrow. As your words hover like a butterfly in his ears, you note the faded scars along the man’s chin, embedded into his tanned skin and nestled beneath his rugged beard that you can see was probably hastily groomed for this evening.

He doesn’t deny it, but counters almost playfully with “I could say the same for you.”

You flirtatiously narrow your eyes at him. “What makes you say that?”

He waves his large finger towards you. “You carry the same disdain for this place on your face that I do.”

Well, you have to admit, he’s got you there and all you can do is nod in agreement. “That obvious, huh?”

“Just a bit,” he chuckles, bringing his hand up to pinch his fingers together to accent his point. “It's ok, though. Glad I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here.” And he tosses a perturbed glace back over his shoulder towards the noise of the party. 

“I guess that makes us two peas in a pod, then, doesn’t it?” you muse with a glittering smile that makes his chest tight.

A grin pulls at the corner of the stranger’s plump lips, causing his scarred chin to wrinkle. “I guess it does, doesn’t it?” 

“My name is Y/F&LN”. You extend your hand out and his large hand completely engulfs yours, dwarfing your delicate fingers with his own. You immediately notice how his skin is rough, yet warm to the touch, his hand strong in a comfortingly protective way. 

“Arthur Morgan.”

And the two of you hold each other’s gaze like a spark of electricity pulsing through the air to connect you. You can feel your fingertips go numb as your heart beats faster within your perfume-dusted chest. And Arthur hopes that you do not notice how he thickly swallows, flexing his now-sweaty hands before awkwardly kneading his thumb into the opposite palm. 

But your beautiful little moment together is short-lived when you hear your name being called out into the night, snapping you back to the real world. And before you know it, a very anxious-looking Bridget appears from around the hedges, her eyes darting around, her lips pressed tightly together in worry. 

“Miss Y/N, there you are! Mr. Bronte is asking for you.” She gives you a sharp wave in her direction before her eyes quickly slip to the burly gentleman to your right.

An embarrassed school-girl blush dusts your cheeks as you clear your throat. “Yes, of course, Bridget, thank you. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Arthur. “Well, Mr. Morgan, it was very nice to meet you. If you will excuse me, please.”

“‘Course.” Arthur dips his head with a respectful nod as you float past him, your fingertips nervously tucking a few tendrils of hair behind your ear. 

Bridget gives Arthur a good look up and down before she turns and follows behind you back towards the music of the garden party with a sly, smug smile drawn on her lips. “Maybe you’re more clever than you think,” she whispers impishly in your ear. You shoot her a cautionary look as you smooth your hands over the fabric of your dress, making sure that you are presentation-ready before you make your way to your host. 

As you navigate the crowd to approach Bronte, you take notice that he is talking to the other men that came with Mr. Morgan. The moment he catches sight of you, Bronte’s face lights up.

“Ah, Miss Y/N! There you are! Come, Come!” He waves you over to stand next to him. “I’d like you to meet some special guests.” Bronte crudely clutches your hand, bringing it to his saliva-slick lips before eagerly wrapping it around his arm. “This is Mr. Van der Linde, and his associates, Mr. Williamson and Mr. Matthews. Gentleman, this is my…’companion’, Miss Y/LN.”

You force down the bile in the back of your throat that the toad conjures up as a graceful nod and accompanying smile adorns your pretty face when you turn towards the men you are being presented to. “Gentleman, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

“Miss Y/L/N,” Mr. Van Der Linde greets you as he flashes a sultry grin in your direction, boldly reaching his ringed hand to take ahold of yours that sits tucked in Bronte’s elbow. He brazenly brings your digits to his warm mouth to place a tender kiss along your knuckles. “Call me Dutch.” His dark eyes fully take you in with a glitter of mischief behind them. “Mr. Bronte is indeed a lucky man.”

Unlike Angelo Bronte, you find this new social contact of his to be quite charismatic and charming. And while most of the attendees of this event carry some level of bravado, this man standing in front of you seems to be quite different, the type to put his money where his mouth is. 

Interest flashes through your eyes at this dark-haired stranger. And Bronte is quick to notice. With a deep scowl of disapproval, his arm quickly snakes around your waist, holding you possessively against him in the presence of these men, so tight that it makes you squirm against his grip. You are about to protest the moderately painful discomfort when Mr. Morgan suddenly joins the circle, his azure eyes immediately targeting the meaty hand that grips your hip before lifting to meet your grimacing expression. The sight makes his face turn dark with a menacing presence to it. It almost shocks you to see the stark contrast to his demeanor from your encounter a few moments ago. 

“Quite the shindig you got goin’ here, Bronte,” Mr. Morgan says cooly, his statement breaking the tension of the social circle. “You always run things like this?”

The disapproval in your new friend’s voice causes one of the other men in his group (Mr. Matthews, is it?) to shoot him a glare of warning, to which Mr. Morgan shrugs off. 

Bronte lifts his nose at the rub, but he will not be made a fool of so easily at the challenge. “Ah, I’m sure you country folk are not used to such luxury, yes?”  

“Personally, I don’t care for it,” snarks Arthur with a snort of derision. “Hard to enjoy myself like a gluttonous pig when there’s people right outside the gate starvin’”

As you stand there next to Bronte listening to these men throw thinly veiled contempt at one another, you begin to feel dizzy. Your head starts to swim, spots dancing before your eyes, making your stomach lurch. But no one notices at first, except for Mr. Van Der Linde.

“You alright, miss?” Mr. Van Der Linde questions you with concern skipping across his dark features. 

“Oh, yes,” you wave him off. “It’s just…just this heat…” You begin to fan yourself, desperate for some cool air to caress your face. 

And suddenly the world around you starts to spin and your knees give way underneath you as if they move of their own accord. You begin to crumple in front of everyone and Dutch is quick to catch you just before you hit the ground, his strong arms shooting out to enfold you and ease you into the grass. The moment Arthur sees that you are in trouble, he promptly hovers over you as well, catching your hand into his own and placing himself between you and Bronte as things go dark in front of your eyes.

A collection of curious guests begins to gather around the spectacle, whispers and fingers discreetly pointing in your direction.

“The lady needs some air,” asserts Dutch as he kneels behind you.

Arthur is at a loss on what to do at first, but is quick to notice how restrictive the corset of your dress is, as your chest can barely move as you desperately gasp for air, your face turning red from the heat of the evening.

With a look of determination, Arthur’s rough hands wrap around your biceps and carefully lift the upper part of your limp body to lean against Dutch, who cradles you into his chest for support. Without a word, Arthur grabs at the fabric of your dress and quickly rips the corseted area wide open, easily tearing the seams under his hands, to release your lungs, exposing the delicate silk undergarments and bare skin hidden beneath. Shock slaps Angelo Bronte in the face as he stands behind Arthur, helplessly watching this embarrassing little scene unfold before his eyes. 

Ignoring the judgemental gasps of the partygoers, Arthur then proceeds to snatch a glass of champagne out of the hands of one of the nosey women craning her neck to see the spectacle and tosses the liquid into your face. The moment the bubbly fluid hits your skin, your eyes instantly pop open as you deeply gasp, desperate to expand your lungs to draw in fresh air. 

Arthur cautiously watches your face in anticipation as you rapidly blink the sweet nectar out of your lashes. Your eyes land on Arthur in confusion as to what has just happened before looking down at yourself and realize that you are now exposed to the whole party. But Arthur immediately takes off his jacket and lays it overtop of you as you sit nestled safely against Dutch who is still behind you. And Arthur breathes a sigh of relief when he recognizes the threads of alertness brightening your features once again. 

“Get the hell outta here,” Arthur orders the crowd, waving them away with a wide arc of his long arm. “Nothing to see here, just a woman needing some air, is all.”

“Can you stand, miss?” Dutch’s deep voice carries softly over your shoulder and into your ear, anchoring you back to consciousness. 

“I think so,” you venture, although the wavering in your voice is not entirely convincing. Your head is still swimming with confusion, but at least you can breathe now and the pounding in your temples has started to recede. 

Arthur takes your hand again, his other slipping under your arm to guide you to your feet as Dutch carefully steadies you from behind. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you say sheepishly looking up into Arthur’s worried face. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” Bronte suddenly bellows, finally finding his voice of outrage. “Thank you?! You make a scene in my house and you say ‘thank you?!”

“Easy, leave her be,” Arthur growls out, turning his threatening gaze to the party’s host. “Can’t you see the lady isn’t well?”

“No, she most certainly is not!” Bronte spits back in anger. His heartless, burning eyes now land back on you, his nostrils flaring wildly with impatience as his expression screws up into a hateful scowl. “Nuisance! I knew it was a mistake to bring you here” he hollers at you, flecks of spittle flying in your direction. “Should’ve left you at the station where I found you!” His finger thrown in your face causes you to shrink backwards, leaning your back into Dutch yet again, where the man’s hands protectively come up to cradle your arms. 

But Arthur is not having any of it, protectively placing his large bear-like frame between you and Bronte, towering over the other man and desperately trying to refrain from landing his massive fist into his face. “You best keep that finger to yourself, Mr. Bronte, else I'll break it clean off.” Arthur’s tone is low and deep, his threat making a shutter cascade down your spine as you watch with baited breath for what is to happen next. 

“Get out! All of you! Get! Out!” Bronte screams, waving at the group of newcomers. “And take that bitch with you, too!”

Your heart sinks as you watch the Italian spin on his heels and storm off towards the house, his arms flailing wildly as he vents his frustrations and anger out into the ether. The party has clearly ended now, as the guests murmur and whisper amongst themselves about the outrageous scene and begin to file out of the garden to leave. 

Your head hangs a bit in shame as you nibble nervously on your pink bottom lip, holding Arthur's jacket over your chest like armor. You have no love lost for Angelo Bronte, but the idea that you now have nowhere to go is a little terrifying. You have no money, no provisions. Nothing. 

Arthur turns to look at you, seeing your soft face frozen in stunned silence. His own countenance turns sheepish as he now realizes that he has cost you your home. “Sorry about that,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rub behind his neck in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to get you tossed out.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” You shake your head and place a grateful hand along Arthur’s arm. “You probably did me a favor.” Your smile is warm and forgiving, but it doesn’t make him feel any less responsible for your new predicament. “But I meant what I said, Mr. Morgan. Thank you,” you whisper emphatically. Your gentle voice causes butterflies to flutter in his belly. 

“You have anywhere to go now?” Arthur asks, his blue eyes burning into your own. God, how you could get lost in those eyes for hours. 

Sadly, you shake your head, confirming his suspicions. 

“Well, then,” interrupts Dutch from where he still stands behind you, “If that is the case, you are welcome to come with us, Miss Y/L/N.” He offers you another of his charming smiles as he holds open Arthur’s jacket as you slide your arms in, and he pulls the oversized garment protectively over your shoulders. He then offers you his arm to escort you away from the party, with his entourage in tow. 

Arthur gives a lofty eye-roll to the heavens at Dutch’s attempt to swoon you, causing Mr. Matthews to chuckle at the interaction. But you smile graciously at Mr. Van der Linde’s offer as you gladly accept his arm and begin to walk with him. You look back over your shoulder and give Arthur a demure little grin, which he returns as he follows you and Dutch out to the front of the property towards the awaiting carriages with Mr. Matthews and Mr. Williamson close behind. 

“Thank you, Mr. Van Der Linde,” you smile brightly up at him. “I just may have to take you up on that offer.” 

Masterlist for more Arthur goodness

Taglist: @appalachiancowboy99 @rivetingrosie4

[cozage]

Hello! Hello! Hope you are doing well! Could I get sfw and nsfw headcanons for shanks, ace, and kidd with an S/O whose being bratty/annoying because they want physical attention?

ILY this was so ?!?!!?? Ugh im literally in love with this writing and you for giving me this prompt thank you

Characters: gn reader x Shanks, Ace, Kidd CW: mostly nsfw things going on here of varying calibers. Shanks has some nipple play. Kidd is absolutely deranged like always

Bratty Consequences

Shanks

Oh Shanks knows the very fine line that exists between your “fun witty banter” and “i'm about to be a major brat”

He always, always, always gives you attention when you start to give him attitude. He knows what you want. You can’t trick him. 

Normally he soothes you before you even have the chance to be a nuisance honestly. He’ll see you storm into a room and say “Baby!! I was looking for you! Come sit with me.”

Shanks is a big lap guy. He loves wrapping his arm around you and holding you close. 

If you start to squirm, trying to grind against his cock, he’ll give your neck or your ear a little nip. “Settle down now,” he’ll purr in your ear. “I’ll take care of you real soon, mmkay?”

Inevitably, you’ll start rocking again, trying to get his attention back on you. One of two things will happen, depending on where you are. 

One: If you’re in public or sitting at a table, his hand will dip down and start stimulating you back. If you’re going to play dirty, so will he. He has no shame, especially if he’s on an island you’ll never visit again. If people want to see him stroking you over your clothes, so let them. He’ll edge you on until you’re whimpering and begging him to fuck you, all with a smile on his face. 

Two: If he’s with the crew or not doing anything important, he’ll excuse himself from the table and pull you along to a secluded place.

Regardless of how it starts, it ends the same.

Once you’re alone, he’ll pull your shirt off and grab your hand. He starts with your finger tips and slowly kisses his way up your arm, to your shoulder, and down your torso. 

He’ll stop for a moment at your nipples, giving them a little extra attention. He kisses them, sucks them, rolls them in his fingers and teases you endlessly by holding them between his teeth. He stays there for as long as he needs, until you’re so desperate that you’re practically dry humping him. 

He’ll finally move lower, kissing your stomach and slowly trailing down to your groin. He’ll hover, breathing heavy with desire. Even if you raise your hips to get closer to his mouth, he’ll move back just out of reach, so his breath is still whispering across your skin. 

“Please, Shanks,” you beg him. You’re so desperate, you can’t think straight. All you want is his mouth on your skin again. “Please.”

He smiles, eager to grant your wish. And he dives straight into pleasing you, getting more passionate with every moan, whimper, and sigh you let out. 

Ace

Oh Ace loves when you get bratty. It may even be his favorite version of you, because he knows what always comes after. 

In the early stages of your mood, he gives you sass right back. It’s flirtatious banter, because he knows that will shut you up and bring a cute blush to your cheeks. 

Once you start getting more demanding though, or your tone starts getting sharper, he’ll just cut you off mid sentence and start giving you little kisses all over your face. 

Tbh…he’s a bit stupid, so sometimes it takes him a bit to realize how to actually…help you.

When you snap at him, he holds your hand. When you start to get grumpy, he asks when was the last time you ate. When you start to whine, he pulls you into his chest and holds you for a long time. He’ll still say some stupid or witty comment, but it’s paired with the attention you need and want. You always grumble or try to fight his cute gestures, and eventually it clicks.

“Oh, I see,” He’ll say and he wraps you in a tight hug. Even when you fight him, he just picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. “Be back soon fellas. Gotta go take care of something, ” he’ll call to his friends, which results in you covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. 

“Alright babe,” Ace says, setting you down on the bed. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” You cross your arms and turn your head away from him. 

“Really?” Ace asks, cocking an eyebrow. He pushes you onto your back, and opens your legs to tower above you. “You don’t want anything at all?”

“Nope.” You’re trying to avoid eye contact with him, still pouting. 

“Not even…” he leans across your torso so his lips are right above your neck. “This?” 

His question sends a shiver down your spine, and you take a sharp breath in as his lips press against your neck. A soft moan escapes your lips that further ignites his passion, and he bites down on your soft flesh. 

“Ace,” you sigh his name and he grins against your neck. His tongue swirls over the area he just bit, and you can feel your body arching, trying to press against him. 

“Lift,” he demands, sitting back up. His fingers grab your belt loops and he quickly yanks your shorts off and tosses them to the side. 

You reach for Ace’s belt buckle as well, eager for his cock to be free, but he stops you. 

“Don’t worry, love. We’ll get to me,” he chuckles. “Right now, let’s focus on you.”

Kidd

If you’re being bratty to Kidd, you better expect a healthy dose of sass from him. He will always give you attitude back.

Everything is a competition with him, and this is no different. He’ll give you just enough attention to keep your attitude up. Not nearly enough to satisfy you, but little doses here and there to keep the game going. 

Sometimes he’ll offer you food, or acknowledge you with words, but he’s careful not to satisfy you with touch. 

The brattier you get, the more he ignores you. It’s a dangerous game - one that always leads to both of you frustrated for different reasons. But god, it sure is fun. The harder you try to get his attention, the more he degrades and ignores you.

He wants you to grovel and beg for him. He wants you to yell at him, shove him, physically block his view with your body to get him to finally pay attention to you. If you’re going to be bratty, he wants you pissed off as well. (He’s such a red flag for this but we love him anyway)

Only when you demand his attention and are close to your breaking point (which, coincidentally, he's excellent at gauging), will he finally pull you away into a quiet place. 

Once you’re alone, he pushes you down on your knees and unbuckles his pants. “Suck.”

His cock springs forth as his pants drop around his ankles, and you let out a soft whimper. 

“You wanted my attention, didn’t you?” He’ll mock, with a cocky grin on his face. “You’ve got it. Now suck.”

You wrap your lips around his bulbous cock, and he instantly starts thrusting into you. You sputter and choke, but his hands quickly grab your head, holding it in place while he face fucks you. You can feel tears leaking out of your eyes and you struggle to keep eye contact with your captain, but he’s staring down at you with a dark and menacing look. 

What a pretty picture you are, all teary eyed, choking on his cock. He wants to teach you a lesson about consequences to your actions, but now you look so sweet and innocent. He’s almost forgotten what a pain you’ve been to him the past few hours. Almost. 

When he finally lets go of you and pulls out of your mouth, you’re left gasping for air. He instantly drops down on his knees and grabs your face, pulling you in for a long kiss. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “You’re so hot. How can I reward you for being so good? You want me to fuck you now?”

You’re still struggling to catch your breath, but you let out a nod, your eyes widening in enthusiasm. 

He gives you a cocky grin, pushing you down on your back. “You really are a brat, you know that? But I’m going to take care of you now.” He lines his cock at your entrance and begins to slowly push into you, moaning slightly as you adjust to his size. “So you better be good and take it all, okay baby?”

[fatkish]

Hii,could you do a part 2 of Aizawa x suicidal child? Please :)

Maybe they did hurted themselves or just confort

Father Aizawa x Suicidal Reader Pt.2

I’ll Never let you go

You and your dad went to the hospital the next day to get your mental health evaluated. Turns out it’s shit. The doctors suggested that you should be on suicide watch and be put in the psychiatric ward for the mean time until they deemed you safe for the partial hospitalization program. While you were in the psychiatric ward the doctors suggested that you see a therapist and create a safety plan. So you asked if you could bring an instrument or at least a pen and paper to write with so you could write songs and journal.

It took some time but you got settled and your dad visited you every day. As the days went by you were writing and journaling. Things didn’t seem that bright right away but that was fine.

(Play the song)

You light a candle just to see in the dark

You're only running on a fuse, and it's been falling apart again

I'm by your side, I hope at least that helps

And life sucks sometimes, it's feeling more like hell

When your dad would visit he would tell you about your cats at home, the mischief his students got into, etc. sometimes Uncle Hizashi would come with him and you two would pretend to jam out to music he’d play. But even though you smiled and laughed there was still a darkness lurking beneath the surface of your mind.

And all the walls around you are turning to ashes

And the flames surround you when everything crashes

Don't hold your head, 'cause it'll all work out

And don't let go of my hand, I won't let you down

The silence is deafening

Keep fighting, you're trembling

But it's fine, it'll be alright

See the pain in your eyes, but we still survive

As you talked to your therapist about the reasons why you feel like dying the relief of getting it out in the open was momentary before the weight of your feelings would come crashing down. You and your therapist would talk about how your dad found you as you were planning to end it all. You talked about how your dad would feel if you went ahead with it and he was too late. How it would affect him and others and how they would feel if you died.

Just don't forget about me

When you feel like you're drowning

I know it's hard to try

If it gets rough, I'm by your side

As the days passed and you talked to the doctors they eventually saw that you were ready for a partial hospitalization program. This program would have you visit the hospital and have a certain amount of hours you would need to spend in the classes at the hospital. These classes had other people in them and was a sort of rehab program for many different people. The classes were about a bunch of different topics that focused on mental health.

When everything

Is falling apart, put your head on my shoulder

Don't cry, just another bad night

You'll make it out alive

When everything is taking its toll, I'll pull you a little closer

If you slip, I'm falling too

And I'll never let you go (never let you go)

You learned a lot of different things like how different mental disorders affected the brain and its functions. You took art therapy and music therapy classes where you would draw something based on the prompt or you’d share a song and explain how it made you feel. All in all, it was very enlightening and helpful.

If your clouds are grey then so are mine

Your smile faded but still you shine

Got my path again into your soul

It's a place that I call home

I can feel your fingertips, they're burnin' my skin again

But I still take your hand

And we'll run away from this mess

I'll bury my heart in the hole in your chest

Your dad would talk with you about your classes and what you learned. You’d show him your notes and he loved seeing the art you made even if it sucked. He found the techniques for panic attacks very useful and decided to have you teach them to him so he could teach his class.

Just don't forget about me

When you feel like you're drowning

I know it's hard to try

If it gets rough, I'm by your side

You spent more time with your dad and he took more time to focus on you and your mental health. He put time aside to make sure to spend with you. You guys would cuddle on the couch and you’d help him grade papers. Sometimes you’d need his help to understand what someone wrote. Apparently you read the students bad handwriting better than your dad. You decided to write feedback on some of the papers like ‘practice your handwriting on separate paper. Heroes need legible handwriting’ or you’d make small corrections and show them how to fix it for next time. Overall, grading papers with your dad was fun.

When everything

Is falling apart,

put your head on my shoulder

Don't cry, just another bad night

You'll make it out alive

When everything

is taking its toll, I'll pull you a little closer

If you slip, I'm falling too

And I'll never let you go again

You told your dad that you still have bad thoughts but now, every time you did, you’d follow your safety plan and talk to him or Hizashi. You’d find someone who you trust and talk to them. Your dad would let you snuggle up to him with your head on his shoulder as you told him everything you needed to.

You don't have to cry alone

And I'll hold this weight above you

If you slip, I'm falling too

And I'll never let you go

Some of the best things you learned were to just live day by day. You don’t have to worry about tomorrow and you don’t have to be hopeful about tomorrow either, it’s enough to just be curious about what’s next. You decided that you wanted to see your friends become heroes and that you had to see if Bakugou became the next number 1. That was enough for both you and your dad. And he promised that he would always be here for you and he’d never let you go.

[mikalei]

————————— Murder in My Mind +18

Killer!Husband!Scaramouche x fem!reader

Modern au

Synopsis: your work as a detective was never easy; you have been assigned to another murder case and was tasked to find and apprehend this killer, but what if it was someone you never expected—what if it was someone closer to you than you think…

tw: ya’ll thought it was fluff at first but it’s not lol, eventual smut, mentions of death, killings, knife, blood, violence, psychotic behavior, weird obsessive behavior,; contains: sexual activity, vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, shower sex, rough sex, marking, biting, tit sucking, cunnilingus..

cw: no use of Y/n, implied female reader, Scara calls reader “darling, my love,gorgeous, and my wife”, Scara is secretly a psycho but we still love him, not proofread.

part i: masterlist ; next

A/n: based on a c.ai bot made by Haniyyah (click hyperlink to visit their tt page, don’t forget to follow them!). If you’re reading this, I love how you write your bots. The prompt and idea was all from their Killer Scaramouche bot, this fic is based solely on what I encounter while using it. (Also I didn’t add the twins part in this story, I don’t want traumatised childrens on my fic just yet). Also sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes, I haven’t written anything for 2 years, I’m still getting the hang of it.

Inserting my keys to open our front door as another stressful shift has finally came to an end,I couldn’t wait to plop myself to the soft mattress of my bed and snuggled against my lovely husband; that’s all I could wish for right now.

As I heard the door clicked, indicating that the once locked door is finally open,I turned the knob and went inside.I was welcomed by the warm and cozy atmosphere of my humble abode as I dropped my bag and coat at the doorstep.

“I’m home…” I said softly, my voice clearly shows how tired I am as I look at the analog clock in our living room’s wall.

2:17 am

The clock said, I let out a sigh as I sat on our couch. I let another sigh as I lean further more on the couch, closing my eyes. I sat there contemplating whether I have enough energy left to go up to our room and get changed into something more comfortable or just sleep on the couch for today.

I was about to do the latter when a pair of strong hands were placed on both of my shoulders, slowly massaging it. A small smile appears on my face as I slowly open my eyes again. There I see, standing behind the couch was my husband—Scaramouche, who is now towering over me. He looks like he just woke up as he still got a tired expression on his face. He leans in and kissed my forehead before speaking

“D’you just got home?” He asked as he sat down next to me, still sleepy as he wraps his arms around my waist and hides his face on the crook of my neck. I gently played with his soft messy hair. This is one of those moments that if I weren’t already tired, I would’ve swooned and obsessed over how adorable he is at this state.

I let out a soft hum while I continue stroking his hair. After a few moment of silence he speaks again.

“And how’s work? You’ve been coming home very very late” I can already sense his pout even if his face is hidden on the crook of my neck. “He is such a big baby.” I thought to myself.

“I know, I’m sorry. But work has been very stressful lately especially the occuring murder cases of multiple men around our age. We still don’t know if this is just coincidental or a serial killer has been on the loose since each victim has a different cause of death, the only thing that connects them to each other is that they were all at the same age, and work at a cafe or restaurant located near our workplace. And on top of that, the manager on my department kept bugging me lately, always asking me to go out to get some drinks after work and everytime I’ll reject his offer, he’ll assign me to more cases and telling me to take the overtime to finish other reports.” I kept ranting, my husband now looking at me intently as he listens to me vent all my problems.

But there is one thing that Scaramouche can ‘t shake off, your manager has been asking you out? As soon as he heard what you said, his mind instantly started to come up with a plan on how to “fix” this problem of yours.

I kept ranting and soon it has come to a stop. I let out another sigh as I felt my head ache from all the stress, I reached in to massage it to help ease some of the nerves to which Scaramouche notice immediately as he plant kisses on my forehead again.

“Wanna take a shower?” Scaramouche offers as he took over massaging my forehead. I let out a sigh of relief and closed my eyes as I felt his hands work its magic on my aching nerves.

“Only if you join me” I answered boldly, my husband’s hands has come to a stop as he process what I’d just said. I opened my eyes again as I look at him confusedly. There he is, looking at me with a dorky grin on his face, he look like a child who just found what he’s gonna get for Christmas. Before I can even say anything, Scaramouche already had scooped me up from the couch and carried me to our bathroom.

Once he had kicked the bathroom door open, he proceeded to push me against the wall, locking me in a passionate kiss, as his fingers work their way to open the buttons of my blouse. Once he finally got my top off, he then undid the zippers of my skirt as he pull it down along with the stockings I wore underneath it, almost tearing it apart.

He pulled away from the kiss to stare at my body, as he eyed the matching two-piece lingerie set I wore, before attacking my neck. He bit and suck on my skin, leaving small to medium red marks, before trailing down to my chest. His fingers unclasped my bra, and as soon as my breast has come to sight, I swear I saw a shiny glint in his eyes as he didn’t hesitate to capture my tit with his mouth while he massage the other. My hands flew to his hair, tangling the strands on my fingers as kept sucking on my boobs, his tongue playing with the bud. I couldn’t help but mewl at the pleasure I’m receiving, the mixture of stress and horniness gives me a different kind of pleasure that I’ve never felt for a long time.

My moans echoed through the spacious bathroom, making soon conscious at how loud I was, I was about to cover my mouth with my hand when I was stopped by my husband. I look at him confusedly as he glares at me, his right hand is still playing with my tits while his left was pinning my hand to the wall.

“Don’t. Cover. Them…. Wan’ to hear how good I make you feel” He said as he pants, it’s obvious that he breathless from continuously sucking on breast like a starved infant. When I show him that I have no intention of covering my moans, he gave my tits one last suck before he turn his back from me to open the warm water of our shower.

Right, we were supposed to be showering before everything went down.

Scaramouche immediately stripped himself of from his clothes and then went back to me to pull down my panties off. I stare at his toned body, god how I missed him. My mouth waters at the sight, my gaze lowers as I saw his hardened cock, hitting his stomach. From the sight alone I feel my wetness flowing down my thighs, my thighs unconsciously clamped together.

My husband looked at me and immediately smirked at how I was reacting upon seeing him naked. He lets out a soft chuckle that which snaps me out of my thoughts. “Darling, you’re staring… I might just melt if you stare at me long enough” He whispered on my ears, his voice sounds like it dropped a few octave at how low and seductive it is.

I blushed when I realised what I was doing and instantly hides my face in my hand. Scara looked at me and mutters a soft “cute” before stepping inside the shower. “Care to join me now, my love?” He said, I stumbled on my words to say “yes” before stepping inside on the shower too.

I watched as water droplets flow down the crevices of his muscles, I didn’t realize I was staring down until I felt his fingers tilt my chin up, as he pulls me to another passionate kiss. He wraps his arms around my waist as I wrap mine around his neck. He pulls me closer as he bit on my lower lip making me gasps. He then take my reaction to his advantage to slip his tongue inside my mouth.

Soon, I felt the need to breathe once again as I try to break free from his kisses, but to my luck, his arms had kept me from going anywhere, my hands are now on his chest, trying to push him away, but only when I started tapping on his shoulders did he decided to break away.

Both of us are panting heavily at the intense make out, Scara gave me a bashful look before muttering a sorry.

“Sorry, I might’ve enjoyed it a bit too far…” He scratched the back of his neck shyly. i giggled at how fast he can change from being this sexy man to a sweet one. “Turn around for me now will you, love? ‘M gonna scrub your back” he said as he took the soap from it’s rack and helped me turn my back towards him. Soon I felt the soap making contact to my skin, as he massages the slippery material on my back, but, somehow his mind must’ve wandered off to somewhere as his hands are now, not massaging my back, but are massaging my breast once again.

The action took me off guard as his touch becomes harsher and harsher. Soon, he pulled me against him once again, my back is leaning against his chest, as his hard cock is grinding on my ass. “Wait, Scara-“ I stutter as one of his hands went down from massaging my tits to now drawing circles on my clitoris, while his other continues its ministrations on my chest. “ ‘m sorry darling… I-hah… can’t wait… any longer” he groans right next to my ear as his dick grinds on my ass, trying to put get more friction. His slender fingers has now found their way inside my sopping cunt as he thrust two digits in a scissor motion.

“Please, put it in-hah-already” I said as I can feel myself getting closer to my climax. It’s amazing how with just fingers he can already reach that part inside me that can make my eyes roll to the back of my head. But, my pleads fell on deaf ears as he kept on fingering me, inserting one more finger; there are now three fingers inside me and my moans just gotten louder and louder. I kept on pleading and pleading but he kept denying my request.

“I will darling… I will… if you cum on my fingers then I promise, I’ll fuck you ‘till you can’t fucking stand anymore” Something inside me snaps after he had said those words to me. I can’t remember what happens but all I know is by the next few minutes, I was screaming and moaning his name like a prayer, as my legs wobble at the intense pleasure I’m getting just by his fingers.

I couldn’t comprehend what was happening anymore as the coil in my stomach finally snaps. Only then I found out what’s happening. I look at Scara, and he has this amazed look on his face that soon morphs into a satisfied one.

“Wow, you just squirted just by my fingers. Was my fingers that good? Heh, now you’re just stroking my ego” He said as he pull out his fingers out of my pussy. “Why don’t we try to do that one more time, but this time I want you to squirt on my cock, can you do that darling” He said in a dark yet sweet tone as he kisses my cheeks. Before I can even process what he had just said, he already picked me up, wrapping my legs on his waist as he lines his tip to my entrance, before fully inserting his whole dick inside me.

My eyes immediately rolled back as I felt how big he is. Scara took in the sight with a smirk on his face, enjoying my reaction. “God fucking damnit, you’re so tight! This is the reason why you should stop working overtime… so I can mold your fucking cunt with my dick.” Scaramouche said as he started thrusting up in a steady pace.

I can’t even speak anymore, my brains has finally turned into mush as he fucks me harder and harder. All of my knowledge has been reduced to just being fucked by my husband. I’ve turn into a blabbering mess as he makes me lean against the wall as he continue thrusting inside me, I felt a familiar coil in my stomach.“Mmph- ah going too-ah… cum again” I said with all my remaining strength. My vision is now clouded as he fucks me in a ruthless pace now.“Can you hold it for me darling? Wanna come with you…yeah… let’s cum together, my love” I whimpers as I tried to hold it in much longer, Scara started thrusting at an even faster pace.

“Can’t…hold…anymore… Scara” I whine as tears flooded my eyes, this is too much now, I am way to overstimulated from all of this. “I know you can darling… just a bit more” Scara started to suck on my neck again, leaving even more hickeys around it, as he trails down to suck on my tits again which just added more pleasure.

And to top all of that, one of Scara’s hands was placed once again on clit, his finger kept on teasing and playing the small bud with sends pleasure through my body like a shockwave. At this point, my whole body is shaking, I am holding on to his shoulders for my dear life because my legs are already trembling— no, I literally can’t balance myself on my feet anymore as he kept abusing my pussy.

The sound of our loud moans and his balls slapping against my skin is the only thing that can be heard through the entire night. Tears are rolling down my cheeks, was it from the intense pleasure or the fact that I am in dire need of that sweet release? Maybe a mixture of both.

“Scara…” I whine once again, and the next words I heard from my dear husband made me feel relieved. “Go ahead my love, come for me” He grunts as he thrust into me faster.

A loud moan escapes my lips as I once again had squirted on his cock, my eyes rolled back in ecstasy as Scara continued thrusting inside me, I can feel his dick twitching inside me, and soon, he had released his loads inside me. He thrust a few more times, making sure that his cum reached the deepest part of my hole before pulling out. Some of his semen fell out, to which he pushed back inside using his fingers.

“You’re such a good girl for me” He kissed my forehead as he proceed to clean us up and drying us both with a towel. The fatigue has now gotten to me and as soon as my body made contact with the soft mattress of our bed, I was out like a light.

Scara looked at his wife’s sleeping figure. “God even in her sleep, she still looks beautiful” as he admire his wife, he remembers that he has someone he needs to pay a “visit”. He helped his wife get into a much comfortable position and as soon as he finished tucking her to sleep, he looks for his wife’s phone.

As he unlocked her phone, the first notification that appeared was from his wife’s manager. “Perfect” Scaramouche thought as he clicked on the notification. It directed him to the manager’s text messages to his wife, which only made his blood boil even more.

There has been an ongoing pattern on the manager’s text where the manager will text his wife about work-related issues, followed by asking them out to go to a club or bar, and when his wife rejects him, he’ll tell her to spend the overtime to finish some reports, then after a few more hours, the manager will drunk-text his wife and sending her the location of the bar he is in.

And that is exactly what his latest message was. Scaramouche has a dark smile on his face now as he save the location to his own phone, before clicking the “mark as unread” option on the manager’s text message on his wife’s phone.

After changing into a dark outfit, he gives his wife one last kiss on the cheeks before heading towards where this drunk manager is getting a drink.

Upon arriving at the location, Scara smiles to himself once again as he saw the familiar manager, drunkenly wobbling to an alley. “Poor guy… didn’t even know his life will end today” He thought as he follows the drunkard to the same alley after scanning for any cctvs or bystanders. When he confirms that the coast is clear, he went into the alleyway, only to find the drunk manager pissing himself.

“Tsk how disgusting” Scara thought as he observe the naive man whose back is turned around, leaving him vulnerable. Quietly, Scara took a closer step, knife in hand, once he was directly behind the drunk man, he immediately stabs him in his side, while covering his mouth to mute any noise that might raise suspicion.

As the man bleeds to death on the ground, Scara took the man’s phone and opens it. Scaramouche felt sick as he saw that even the man’s lockscreen wallpaper is a picture of you. “What kind of sick obsession do you have to my wife… and let me guess, you’re password is her birthday isn’t it?” The man just stared at him shockingly which confirms Scara’s suspicion as he enters his wife’s birthday on the passcode.

His blood is boiling even more at how sick this manager is. Scara looks down at the man dying on the floor as he noticed that the man’s dick is still out.

Oh yeah he stabs him while he is pissing himself off…

Scara scoff as he steps on the man’s dick. “You obsess over my wife, asking her to go out with you when you have this pathetic bean sprout for a dick, pfft, how can you even satisfy a goddess like her with this thing?” He kept crushing the guy’s balls as the man can only groan in pain.

Scara looks back at the man and noticed that the man’s wallet is poking out of his pockets. Curious, he look inside the wallet and saw a clip of fresh and crisp stack of money amounting up to 500k. Scara smiles to himself as he looks at the notes.

“You rich bastard, thankfully you got a lot of cash in you right? A perfect way to cover the fact that you have a small dick” he laughs to himself once again, unfortunately the man is now but just a lifeless body. Scara’s face become serious. “Oh you’re dead already? Such a shame, I was still not done making fun of your small penis just yet. But the sooner you die, the better. And also, I’m keeping this money, I’m pretty sure my lovely wife will appreciate a nice vacation after the hell you put her through at work” Scaramouche said as he stuffs the money in his wallet.

Before leaving he makes sure that the scene before him looked more like the victim got mugged by some criminal and not murdered because the now dead man hits on his wife. Once Scara was satisfied, he got rid of the evidence like the blood on the knife was cleaned off by hydrogen peroxide, his clothes doesn’t have any blood on them, but he clean them off too.

Once he arrived at his house, he checked the clock and saw that it’s still early in the morning. And from their previous “activity”, he is sure that his darling wife would be sleeping till noon, Scara made sure of it, it was all in his plan, starting from when you mentioned that your manager has been asking you out. It was all part of his plan. He thought to himself as he lay beside his sleeping wife.

When they woke up later, he is going to suprise her with the best vacation day ever. Scara smiles to himself once more before drifting off to sleep.

extra notes: Yay, a new fic done. Here are a few facts I fail to mention about the fic

Scaramouche has a job (other than being a killer) , he is an engineer

When I wrote “It was all part of his plan”, I meant that Scara planned to have sex with the reader (his wife) because he knows she’s already tired from work and if he tire her out even more then she’ll be asleep the whole time, which mean Scara don’t have to worry about her waking up while he kills people.

This fic will be a series because this is all I can do for today.

That would be all! Thank you for reading, please leave a like and follow me for more. Also my asks are open, so if you have any request I’m glad to try and fulfill it! Hope you like this part! Mika out :3

[dreamwatch]

Computer Love

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #22 - Prompt: Alternate Universe | Word Count: 995 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Steve | Pairing: pre-Steddie| Tags: IT Crowd AU, banter, my attempt at humour,

Ok, I wasn't going to write for today, but I was sitting on a work call and it made me think of the IT Crowd and that made me think of our beloved idiots. And honestly, I've been writing so much angst I thought I should try and redress the balance!

Steve wasn’t exactly over the moon about working for his dad, but one failed retail job after another and a few unpaid bills is all it took to have him crawling back to Harrington Senior. He didn’t want to be an office gopher, or work in the mail room, not at his age, but he’d suck it up.

Head of IT. His dad was making him Head of IT.

So far he’s told two friends. Robin, who stared at him like he had two heads before saying “Is he joking? Is it— is it like an April Fools thing?” And Dustin who was even less polite:

“What the fuck do you know about information technology?”

“Is that what it stands for?”

“Jesus Christ, Steve.”

He heads to the bank of elevators looking for his department. Harrington Industries is spread over twenty floors. He wonders if he’ll get a corner office. God the views… 

Steve runs his fingers down the list until he finds IT. Basement. No view then. Shit.

He exits the elevator into a dingy hallway, discarded PCs and printers stacked everywhere, and trips over a cable almost immediately.

Finally he finds his department. And… well…

Fuck.

Yeah. It’s all making sense now.

It looks like a frat house. There are two guys on a ratty couch playing video games, and another two at desks; one mop top making cat memes, and an admittedly cute guy with long hair with his feet up on his desk. There are phones ringing and no one seems bothered by them, until eventually Long Hair lets out an exasperated sigh and picks up.

“IT Support, have you tried turning it off and on again? Uh huh. Yeah it’s the button on the front of the… yup, big grey button… can’t miss it… you know what, let me send someone up. What’s your floor? Uh huh, and name? Melanie. Melanie in Marketing. Well, I’m going to be sending my best guy up—“

And, finally someone has noticed he’s there.

“Uh, he’s on his way, bye.” Long Hair drops the phone. “Guys, we have company.”

“Hi, I’m Steve,” he says, smiling at the four faces now firmly fixed on him. “I’m your new boss.”

“Not for long,” snarks one of the guys on the couch.

“Matty, be nice!” says Long Hair, and god he has beautiful eyes. Shit, fuck, no, don’t go there. “I’m Eddie, that’s Matt, who is just about to head up to Melanie on four—“

“Oh for fu—“

“—That’s Jeff sitting next to him,” Jeff raises a hand, “and this is Gareth.” Gareth just scowls at him.

Steve finally gets a good look at them all. Ratty band shirts and sneakers, ripped jeans, totally unprofessional, they look like they’re in a band not an office. He’s going to be making some serious changes around here.

“Well it’s good to meet you all,” he says and finally catches sight of a small office. He points at it, “Take it this is mine.”

“Sure is,” says Eddie. “We didn’t know exactly when you were coming so you’re not set up yet, but Jeff will get that done this afternoon for you.”

“Why this afternoon?”

Jeff stares at him like he has two heads. “It’s Minecraft Monday.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what that is.”

Eddie laughs. “It’s fine, I’ll come in a few minutes get you hooked up. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable. Boss.” 

His office is small and cluttered with more junk, and definitely no window. God, this sucks. 

There’s a knock at the door and he turns to find Eddie leaning against the door frame, arms crossed against his chest. 

“How d’ya like the place?”

Steve runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face.

“Uh, yeah, it’s, you know…”

“A shit hole?”

“Yeah, a shit hole.”

“I take it Donny didn’t exactly fill you in on the details.”

Steve drops into the torn office chair. “Not really,” he sighs. “He has a habit of that.”

Eddie straightens up. “You’ve worked with him before?”

He laughs. “Better than that. He’s my dad.”

“Oh shit.”

Gareth barges in. “Wait, Donny the Dick is your Dad?”

“Donny the— hey, that’s—he’s the guy that pays your salary, a little respect.”

“Pretty sure that’s Karen in finance.”

“What…? You know, never mind. Point is, this department is a mess and there’s going to be some changes around here. Starting with the way you answer the phones, you can’t just tell people to turn the computers on and off—“

“—off and on,” Jeff cuts in.

“Whatever, you can’t do it. You need to ask what’s wrong.”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, we could, but the answer would still be to turn your PC off and on again so…”

Jeff and Gareth nod along like those stupid plastic toys. God, is it too late to go back to Family Video?

“Well, that’s as maybe, but for now you’re… ah, dismissed.”

He doesn’t miss Eddie’s amused smirk, as he gestures for his troops to leave. But then he’s perching himself on the edge of the desk, leaning into Steve’s space, those big brown eyes pinning him in his seat.

“So, just between us, you don’t actually know anything about IT, do you?”

“I mean… I know… uh, like mice, you know and uh… oh!” Steve snaps his fingers and points, triumphantly. “HTNL!”

Eddie’s biting his lip, god he has beautiful lips. “It’s HTML, but you were close. Do you do a lot of coding, Steve?”

He flops back in the chair, defeated. “Up until last week I was working in Family Video.”

“In their IT department?”

“No, in their ‘this is due back in two days department.’” He groans. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

Eddie laughs. “Don’t sweat it, you’ve got a lot more going for you than the last guy.”

“I have?”

“Oh yeah. At least you’re pretty,” he says with a wink.

Yeah, Steve’s totally screwed.

[apomaro-mellow]

Two in the Bush 6

Part 5

Eddie was pretty gung-ho about the shower preparations while Billy seemed mostly ambivalent to it, which was expected. Eddie was really excitable while it was rare to see Billy get pumped for anything outside of the typical alpha stuff. Belatedly, Steve realized he should have put that on his list of things for Billy to work on and wondered how he could get him to do it.

“We gotta get this!”, Eddie came from a rack of clothes and held up a black onesie with a flaming guitar on it.

“Where did you even find that?”, Steve asked, stopping the cart.

“From the super badass baby section”, Eddie said as he tossed it into the cart.

There was no way in hell Steve was letting his baby wear that. Babies should wear soft things in bright colors with cute characters. But at least Eddie was thinking about what his future pup would wear. A stark contrast to Billy, who looked like a kid being dragged around, glowering, arms crossed.

“Isn’t the point of a baby shower that people buy this stuff for us?”

“They will, but we should get a few things ourselves”, Steve said.

“Yeah and no one’s gonna buy this for us!”, Eddie held up a little baby beanie with soft felt horns on top.

“Seriously, where are you finding this stuff?”, Steve asked, shaking his head but unable to hide the smile on his face. 

Billy watched the two of them go back and forth over what a pup should and shouldn’t wear and despite it being an argument, neither seemed particularly upset or frustrated with the other. They almost seemed like they were having fun. Billy had been stuck on it for the rest of the shopping. They brought it back to Steve’s place and for now, kept the clothes in what would eventually be the nursery.

“Yeah, I can see my vision now”, Eddie said, hands on his hips as he looked around. “We’ll put the mural on this wall, I’m thinking a dragon in flight over a village. Over there’s where we’ll have the speakers and tape deck. Nothin’ puts a baby to sleep like some Megadeth.”

“I know you’re joking. But it’s still a no”, Steve deadpanned. “I’m gonna order a pizza. Maybe between the two of you, you guys can figure out some real nursery decor.”

He walked out, leaving the two alphas alone. Eddie continued to survey the room. So far, it only had a dresser. The crib was still in Steve’s room for now.

“How do you do that?”, Billy asked, although it sounded like he did so through gritted teeth.

“Hm? Do what?”, Eddie asked back.

“You disagree with him, argue with him but it’s never-you never escalate or blow up at each other. Are you just playing a game? Is that foreplay to you guys?”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “If you think that’s foreplay, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, hey, sorry dude, look, that was a legit question, right?” Eddie held his hands up. “It’s not really arguing it’s like…bickering, you know?”

“No I don’t.” Billy crossed his arms, prompting Eddie to elaborate.

Eddie leaned against the dresser. “It’s like, I’ll say things that I know will annoy him, but not make him mad. And it’s fun to watch him get worked up, isn’t it?”

It was fun to get Steve worked up. Made the sex good too. But Billy had never argued just for the fun of it. How was Eddie able to do it so easily? Eddie could see something warring inside of Billy and decided to throw him a bone.

“Look, it’s not hard. The next time something comes up, just neg him a little”, Eddie suggested.

“Hey, you guys want breadsticks with the pizza?”, Steve called out.

“Breadsticks fucking suck”, Billy replied.

Eddie’s face fell into his palms. He might need to write out instructions for this guy.

--------------------------------

Billy got another chance when he was to tag along with Steve for his next appointment. It would have been all three of them, but Eddie had cars to work on. He and Billy had talked beforehand and Billy had written down Eddie’s points on a napkin to keep himself straight.

Don’t attack him directly

Annoy, not anger

Have fun with it

“Why are there all these rules?”, Billy questioned.

“They’re unspoken, but important”, Eddie had said.

He’d never felt this nervous when it came to Steve before. He was easy. Get him riled up a bit, fuck, rinse and repeat. But a pup was potential to be something new. And he didn’t want to lose Steve just because he couldn’t get with the program and evolve.

“Are you okay?”, Steve asked as they entered the clinic.

Billy had gotten pretty good at hiding his scent thanks to his childhood, so he must have slipped for Steve to be able to tell he was bothered by something. He shrugged before remembering him being emotionally stunted was a sticking point for Steve.

“Just wondering how you plan to let down Munson when we found out it’s not his.”

Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day after all.

Steve rolled his eyes. “So sure it’s yours, huh?”

Eddie’s words echoed in Billy’s head. “Sometimes, he’ll give you a real easy in. Something like a challenge. Go ahead and take it.”

Was that it? Was that an in? Should he take it? What should he say? Billy wondered if he could take the napkin out of his pocket without Steve noticing. Had it been too long for him to respond? It felt like he’d spaced out for too long. Steve’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something else, Billy inwardly panicking, when a nurse called Steve’s name.

They stood and Billy only felt half saved. Steve definitely noticed his pause. And the fact that Billy had yet to answer. They got set up in the room and the doctor did most of the talking, checking in on Steve’s health. Steve was just barely two months in, so they weren’t doing an ultrasound just yet. 

Steve replied to all the doctor’s questions and Billy felt completely useless and out of his depth. He kept his mouth shut for the duration of the appointment, even as they left and got back into his car. But Steve couldn’t keep up with the odd silent treatment anymore.

“Look, are you upset about what I said earlier?”

“What?”

“Because I know it’s probably a sore spot for an alpha to have some other guy ‘challenging his claim’”, Steve used air quotes and rolled his eyes but pressed on. “But I didn’t mean it like-well, we don’t know for sure whose it is, but I shouldn’t throw it in your face like that.”

Well, it wasn’t quite an in, but it was kind of an out, wasn’t it? It was better than admitting what was really on his mind anyway. So he took the easiest escape route.

“I was kinda serious. If it’s mine, how are you gonna tell Eddie?”

Steve sighed and looked out the window. “I won’t know what I’m going to say until we find out.”

Billy wanted to press for more. It felt like there was more that Steve wanted to say. But meeting up with Max reminded Billy that one of his problems was pushing too hard and too far. If Steve wanted to play it close to the chest for now, he’d let him. Their little nugget was barely a pile of beans right now. Besides, it gave Billy some time to think about how little he knew going into the clinic today.

After dropping Steve off and getting back home, he called up Eddie.

“You’ve reached the Munson residence, home of a future baby daddy.”

“You’re answering the phone like that?”, Billy snorted.

“Hargrove! I trust the visit went well?”

“Yeah, I guess.” The doctor and Steve seemed happy enough about it. But that reminded him of the idea he got on the drive home and what he could do about how he’d felt today. Something that both he and Eddie had to do.

“How much do you know about pregnancy?”, Billy asked, leaning against the wall next to his phone.

“Uh, peen goes in hole and pup pops out? Swollen ankles and weird late night cravings? ….Tender titties!”

“We’re going to the library”, Billy decided.

[ladytauria]

27. "I'm pregnant" With DickTim (but perhaps both are very much cis and the person who said it is drunk or got hit on the head or idk)

it took me a sec to figure out what i wanted to do for this prompt; and then when i did, how to execute it, but. i had a lot of fun writing this prompt, lol. i hope you enjoy!

“I cannot believe the love of my life would betray me like this,” Dick says, pressing his hand to his heart, dramatics fueled by the way Tim’s eyes are dancing. “How could you, Timmy?” His voice wavers with suppressed mirth.

Tim bites back laughter. He’s unfairly pretty, wearing one of Dick’s old university tees over lounge pants; face flushed pink with both amusement and the wine they’d been drinking. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“No— I was gonna spend the rest of my life with you! But you— I can’t recover from this.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, baby, but—” He blinks rapidly, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. “It’s over.”

Tim clutches his hands over his chest. “You can’t leave me.” There’s a flash of something playful and wicked on his face before his eyes go wide and round. He steps forward, clutching at Dick’s arm with one hand, the other falling over his stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

Dick chokes. “You’re—”

They stare at each other for a moment, and then—Dick’s not sure which of them cracks first, only that they fall into each other, both of them shaking with laughter as they sink to the floor.

Eventually, their mirth fades; giggles slowly coming to an end. Tim lets go of Dick’s arm so he can pull it around his shoulders, settling against Dick’s side. Dick slips his hand under Tim’s t-shirt, cupping his hip and stroking his skin with his thumb. Tim hums, resting his head on Dick’s shoulder, tipping back to look up at him.

“Love of your life, huh?” he whispers, stroking his fingers over Dick’s forearm.

Dick’s face warms. “I— Well.” Dick is an affectionate person, especially when they’re alone. There’s nothing he loves more than to wrap himself around Tim and remind him—physically, verbally—that he loves him. Call him a sap, a sentimental fool, he doesn’t care. But—hearing the joking phrase echoed back at him… it trips him up, a little.

Tim’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. It’s a soft, sweet smile, one reserved for Dick alone. It never fails to make him feel all gooey inside. “You’re the love of mine, too,” he murmurs, turning so he can smear a kiss on Dick’s neck.

Dick would swear his heart was doing quadruple somersaults in his chest. “Yeah?” His voice is almost embarrassingly breathless.

“Yeah,” he whispers, reaching up to stroke over Dick’s cheek.

Dick leans into it, then turns to kiss Tim’s palm. He lets the kiss linger for a moment. Then, he scoops Tim up, manhandling him into his lap; earning a startled intake of breath and then a surprised, pleased smile as Tim winds his arms around his neck. Dick cups his face, peppering kisses all over it, until Tim is shaking with giggles again.

Then he stops, nose against Tim’s cheek, lips at his jaw. “So… about that pregnancy,” he says, leadingly.

Tim huffs a laugh. “I can’t get pregnant, Dick. You know that.”

Dick sucks a kiss into his jaw, delighting in the sharp intake of breath that gets him. “I dunno, Timmy,” he murmurs. “Won’t know unless we try, will we?”

Tim grips his shoulder with one hand. The other tangles in his hair. “You— You know, you might be right. Might, uh. We might have to try a few times. Just to make sure.”

Dick’s hands slip under Tim’s borrowed t-shirt. “I vote we start now,” he says, trailing his mouth down Tim’s jaw.

Tim gasps again, fingers tightening in Dick’s hair. “Motion granted,” he says, and tugs Dick’s head back to capture his mouth in a searing kiss.

[ prompt list ]

Read it on AO3

[via-l0ve]

could you right a fluffy drabble with Ponyboy hosting a chaotic sleepover with greaser gang anf fem! reader please ? ;000 reader is hinted to have romantic feelings for Dally

a/n: i love these types of requests! i did a short prompt at the beginning and then i popped some headcannons at the end. i hope you enjoy :) i was giggling writing this lol.

warnings: swearing

Sleepover (Gang hc’s + slightly romantic Dallas!)

“hey! hey y/n!” You turn around and see Ponyboy running over to you. School had just been let out and you were headed back home.

“hey Pony, what’s up?” you smiled at him as he finally caught up to you. His hair was messy from the slight windy weather in Tusla; he combed it back with his fingers. He gave you a small grin.

“I’m throwin’ a slumber party tonight at my house! you gotta come y/n, it’s gonna be so fun! besides, you’re the life of the party, wouldn’t be as fun without ya.” he smiled, obviously excited as he explained at all to you.

“sure, pone i’d love to. what time? the whole gang gonna be there?” you asked, smiling at him.

he nodded. “yep, all of the guys and I. around six probably, think we’re gonna order pizza or something.” he shrugged.

“all of the guys?” i blushed a little. “i mean.. even dallas?” i asked, trying to play it off as if it was nonchalant

he rolled his eyes playfully. “yeah, y/n. even Dallas.” he smirked.

“so you’ll be there?” he asked with a smile.

“wouldn’t miss it for the world.” you responded, smiling at him

“good! it’ll be fun!” he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and left, leaving you to go home and pack a bag.

Once you get to the house chaos endures

All of the guys are crowded around the table, playing cards and betting their money on stupid bets that Two-Bit and Darry win constantly

“i’m losin’ all my goddamn money cus’ of ya!”

“sorry Steve, not my fault you suck at rummy.”

*throws all of the cards.*

after losing all of their money, everyone decides to make some food (despite literally having ZERO idea how to cook!)

It eventually breaks off into a bake off between

Y/n, Dallas, Johnny, Ponyboy

Steve, Two-Bit, Darry and Soda

Darry was dragged into this and since he knows how to cook somewhat you and dallas were cussing and so competitive because “they can’t have a good one on their team!! ADVANTAGE!!”

So you paired darry with the worst trio imaginable

The kitchen catches on fire because Two-Bit dropped some grease on the stove and everyone started screaming and Steve grabbed a towel and threw it on top of the flame to suffocate it and then the towel got CHARRED and darry had to unleash half of the fire extinguisher onto the stove.

Dallas grabbed you and literally yanked you to the other room bc god forbid you get hurt

darry to two-bit afterwards:

everyone had to take a break after that.

anyways, Two-Bit got banned and became the judge after the small fire and you guys continued to make food.

Ponyboy mistook the salt for sugar and Dallas smacked him on the head after he realized and it was too late because Johnny already mixed it in and you just looked scared bc how tf were you supposed to win now

Little did you know that sodapop and steve literally forgot to put eggs in?? and Darry didn’t catch them??

But anyways Two-bit absolutely GOBBLES up the cookies you guys made and then immediately spits it out because of the overwhelming amount of salt

And he can’t even eat the other cookies because wtf is that

After cleaning up and being very aware of the stove, you all move into the living room and ponyboy goes

“guys i got you all gifts.”

AND THIS MF PULLS OUT MATCHING PJS :(

The entire gang is going 👁️👄👁️

meanwhile you’re literally

“that’s so fucking cute.”

let’s be honest they prolly look like this:

Two bit def wanted the dress

Dallas, steve and darry were all very adamant to not wear any of them

You easily convinced Dallas

“please? we’d all look so good.”

“…fine, y/n/n.”

awww he loves you

sodapop also definitely wore one of the dresses and steve wore the footie pj’s and they matched

you guys went to the DX all dolled up in your matching pj’s and you bought a ton of shit like candy bars and cigarettes and beer and energy drinks

you guys go back home and decide to call three different pizza places and see who can deliver the fastest

(no one thought of the outcome of having like 10 fucking pizzas to eat)

but anyways Pizza Hut was the fastest

Dallas dared steve that he couldn’t chug a beer and eat four pizza slices in four minutes

he did it and the outcome was dallas losing five bucks and steve spending an hour in the bathroom frantically yelling “IM DYING!”

Johnny wants to watch a movie and is indecisive and eventually gets all the boys arguing about what to watch so you and Dallas sit back and eat your candy and watch them all scream and argue over which shrek movie was better (Two-Bit is FRANTICALLY arguing that the third one is superior.)

after they decide on a movie and steve emerges from the bathroom, you pull out facemasks and force everyone to do them with you

you sit on dallas’ lap to put it on him and he’s lowkey blushing and loving your touch but he’s too tough he won’t say anything

but he’s literally looking at you like 🥰

you didn’t tell the guys that the masks were peel offs and you got to watch them all go through the five stages of grief as they ripped the masks off

ponyboy is SCREAMING

literally flabbergasted

Steve is begging sodapop to take it off for him because “it hurts less when someone else does it.”

Two-bit can barley breathe because he’s laughing so hard

Darry is js grunting and i feel like he peeled his off before it even dried so now his fingers are sticky and he’s having a fit

Johnny is the quietest one but he got some in his eyebrow and the YELP he let out when he YANKED IT

Dallas is literally labor breathing “hee-hoo hee-hoo.” lookin ass

you’re literally dying because wtf is happening

after the boys go through their traumatic experience, you all cuddle up and watch your movie.

Darry is the first one to fall asleep and Dallas and you gang up to draw on his face

someone totally drew a dick on Darry’s poor face and when he wakes up and sees this huge weiner drawn on his face he is going to murder

Johnny is out next and he gets the whole treatment of face drawings

i feel like when ponyboy falls asleep steve pours water on his face and he wakes up like moms when their kids wake them up for a drink of water

terrifying.

Two-bit is drunk off his ass bro💀💀 someone get this kid a tranquilizer bc holy fuck

at like 2am he’s talking some shit about interdimensional aliens and it’s lowkey scary

someone put him down.

Steve clocks out and he’s using sodas face as a pillow and sodapop is just enduring it.

Eventually only you and dallas are left and you guys are sitting next to eachother

you pass out and unconsciously cuddle into him and he literally melts

he wraps his arms around you and puts his chin on ur head and passes out

the gang def takes pics of you guys all snuggled up when they wake up

[mercurial-vroom]

🏎️ My F1 RPF Masterpost 🏎️

In honor of my newly-minted F1 sideblog, just thought I'd gather all of my recent F1 fics into one place here on tumblr -- all were fills for the fabulous (and still ongoing, so go read/write/prompt!!) F1 Kink Meme and have recently been de-anoned:

Delicacy (🍣 Carlando sushi fic - 6.5k words, rated E)

“I thought you were going to be good for me,” said Carlos, his voice pitching low in a way he knew made Lando shiver. He ran one of his thumbs gently along Lando’s lower lip, smiling a little at how his eyelashes fluttered in response. “You want to get your reward, no?” “Well, yeah. But I thought ‘being good’ would mean, like… sucking you off while you pull my hair, or letting you, I dunno, spank me or something. Not having to eat a frickin’ fish.”

You can be the poet (I'll be the song) (🎧 Landoscar DJ Lando AU - 9.5k words, rated E)

“You’re the F1 driver who will be up there with me tonight, right? Oscar…?” “Piastri, yeah. And you’re, er… LN4, I presume?” “Yeah, but you can just call me Lando. It’s my actual name.” “Like from Star Wars,” Oscar said, like an idiot. LN4 – Lando – thankfully laughed. “Exactly.”

I've got some real estate here in my bag (🚗 Loscar road trip fic - 28k words, rated E)

They decide to start in New York – Oscar’s never been, and it feels like a high-energy place to begin, before they’re suffering from highway hypnosis and potentially sick of the sight of one another – then to make their way south along I-95, through DC and the Carolinas and eventually down the long stretch of Florida to Fort Lauderdale, where Logan’s mom will be waiting with hugs and home-cooked meals for both of them. It feels like a nice little spread of Americana, Logan thinks. They’ll rent a car, and book the hotels as they go, and stop where they want to stop when they feel like stopping, just soaking in the fleeting and wonderful freedom of not having to adhere to a strictly regimented schedule of driving and training and press for the first time in months.

[nyoomfruits]

Ohh for the prompts: jamming out to the radio at midnight with Lando/Oscar pleaseeeeee 🥰

@etherealszs

this idea has been banging around in my brain since i got these two prompts a MONTH ago and i finally FINALLY got around to actually writing it lmao. takes places directly after the silverstone gp :)

It’s probably a little telling, Lando thinks, that he’s here, sitting on the counter of Oscar’s tiny little kitchen in Oscar’s tiny little London apartment, rather than at Christian Horner’s big BBQ bash, or whatever it’s called that Max had insisted he’d come to.

And before he would’ve gone, without a doubt. He was planning on going, even. But then Oscar had approached him after the race debriefing and had tentatively asked him what his plans for the evening were and if he maybe wanted to come over. His face had that unreadable quality it always has, but Lando’s gotten pretty good at reading Oscar’s tells. The little twitch of his mouth, revealing he’s nervous. How the flush on his cheeks darkens ever so slightly.

So he’d agreed, tried to hide his own nerves, tried to squash down the hope that started fluttering in his chest, and had followed Oscar here, to his kitchen.

Oscar is at the stove, making them grilled cheeses, because according to him they’re allowed a little cheating on their diets for the race they’ve just had. Plus, they’re both starving, even though the clock has now definitely ticked past midnight.

“All right, I think I’ve finally got it,” Lando says, looking up from his phone, where he’s been trying to connect to Oscar’s speaker for the past ten minutes. Only seconds later, the sound of the Spice Girls telling them ‘what they want, what they really really want’ starts filling the kitchen, and Lando does a little victory fist pump.

Oscar laughs. “You really are on top of the world today, aren’t you,” He deadpans, buttering a piece of bread. “Lando Norris: Almost winner of the Silverstone GP and king of the Sonos speaker.”

Lando hops of the counter and does a little twirl. “Give me a few weeks, I’ll win a race and figure out how to work the AC in my drivers room.”

“Only one of those is a realistically achievable goal,” Oscar says, as Lando leans against the counter and tries to steal a piece of cheese. Or well, there’s no real trying to it, because Oscar lets him without any protest.

“And I have you for the other one,” Lando says, beaming at him. “You and your magic AC fingers.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, puts a few pieces of cheese on the buttered bread. “It’s called using the remote. You should try it sometimes.”

Lando sticks his tongue out at him. Oscar places another piece of cheese on it and watches as Lando squawks in indignation as he nearly drops it on the floor. “You’re going to be up there as well,” Lando says, when he’s managed to actually get the piece of cheese into his mouth.

“What, on your AC unit? I’d rather not.”

“No, idiot, on the podium. With me. 1-2 baby,” he grins as he says it, leaning back against the counter again, watching as Oscar does that thing he does where he ducks his head to hide the blush on his cheek.

“Sure, yeah. Eventually,” Oscar’s focusing on assembling his sandwiches a little too hard, so Lando grabs his hands, pulls them away to force Oscar to look at him.

“I mean it. Today sucked, you deserved that podium. But you will get there, and I will get there too, and it will be awesome.”

Lando hadn’t realized, how close they were standing until right now, hips pressed together, his fingers encircled around Oscar’s wrists. Their faces are only inches apart, and Lando has a flashback to yesterday, after qualifying, him pressing Oscar against the wall behind the Mclaren motorhome, frantic and giggly and drunk on victory. Their mouths slotting together in a heated kiss. Oscar’s hands on his neck, pulling him closer closer closer.

They hadn’t talked, after. They still haven’t talked. Lando is too to bring it up, afraid that this fragile little thing they have will shatter in his hands when he does.

Lando pulls away a little frantically, grabs his phone. “You know what we need?” He asks, and when Oscar just stares at him blankly, he continues. “Hype music.” And presses play on his phone.

It takes a few seconds for Oscar to grasp what is playing over the speakers, but then he groans. “No, absolutely not,” he says, grabbing for Lando’s phone as Lando cackles loudly.

“Ooooh Oscar Piastri,” Lando sings over the White Stripes’ drum beat, and dances out of Oscar’s reach. “Come on, Oscar, dance with me!” He says, turning up the sound as music intensifies, jumping up and down.

Oscar sighs, but his eyes are twinkling and there’s a smile tugging in the corners of his mouth and then before Lando knows it he’s jumping along, making Lando laugh when he does some kind of weird head bang motion.

It’s just. It feels exhilarating. Like they’re letting go of all of the hardships and the terrible races of the past few months, and just celebrating. They had a fantastic race. They made out behind the Mclaren motorhome. And now they’re here, in Oscar’s tiny kitchen, and it’s just them and the White Stripes, and it feels liberating, like there’s a huge wait falling off his shoulders.

Eventually the song ends and Lando and Oscar collapse against each other in a heap of giggles, Lando burying his face in Oscar’s shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

When he pulls back he realizes the next song has started playing, Spotify randomly shuffling his music, and it’s Adele’s Make You Feel My Love. Suddenly, the moment feels entirely too intimate. Oscar’s arms are still wrapped around his waist, and Lando’s head was just on his shoulder, and they’re practically slow dancing without the moving, and their noses are only inches apart.

“Hi,” Oscar says, a little out of breath, still.

“Hi,” Lando says, and he should pull away, he should pull away, but he finds himself frozen in place instead.

“I-“ Oscar starts, before taking a deep breath. “I really want to kiss you,” he blurts out then, making Lando’s breath catch in his throat. “But,” Oscar goes on, “But I don’t want. If this is just like, a fling for you, I can’t do that.”

“Oh,” Lando says, because holy shit. “You mean, uh. You want to like. Date? Be boyfriends?” Get married buy a house have children grow old together.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, smiling softly. “If that’s what you want.”

“If that’s what I-“ Lando mutters incredulously before surging forward, pressing his lips to Oscar, who lets out a surprised little ‘mmph!’ before melting into the kiss. “Yes, I want to, you dumbass,” he clarifies, when he pulls away.

“Dumbass? Says the guy who can’t even figure out his own AC,” Oscar says, eyes shining with mirth.

“Oh, shut up,” Lando says. “That’s what I’ve got you for, don’t I?” He says, and then he kisses Oscar again.

[thatdarkfanficstuff]

Flutter - Chapter Three

Pairing: Mafia Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: a smack in the face

A/N: a bit short but I'm so happy with it I'm posting as is.

To say that Steve’s thoughts had once again turned to you would be misleading. The truth was he had thought of little other than you since you walked into his office. You were supposed to be meeting at the end of the month to write an official contract for your betrothal, and eventual marriage, to Roman. A prospect Steve was looking less forward to with every passing day. He pursed his lips and tapped his fingers on the desk in an impatient rhythm as he made a decision he'd been stewing over for days. He needed to make a call.

His touch moved over the screen of his phone in practiced familiarity to pull up Tony’s number.

“Stark,” came the terse greeting.

“Tony,” Steve returned, his voice low and coaxing. “I have a request for you. In fact, let’s call it a proposition.”

Silence stretched taut, filled with suspicion.

“Go on,” Tony prompted after a beat.

“I think the kids should get to know one another. I would hate for them to enter a marriage with no idea what they’re getting into.” Steve sounded so reasonable one could almost forget the engagement was all his idea in the first place. “What better way for them to get acquainted than the lovely Ms. Stark moving in here. She can learn the lay of the land so to speak.”

“Are you out of your mind, Rogers?” Tony snapped. “You expect me to just hand her over with no protections? No guarantees?”

“That makes it sound like you don’t trust me, Tony. That hurts. It really does.” Steve allowed himself the smirk that played at the edge of lips.

Stark snorted in disbelief. “I trust you as much as you trust me.”

Steve sucked in a breath. He had one play to make and he could only hope it didn’t backfire spectacularly. “Ask her.”

There was a pause, Tony likely weighing his options and possible outcomes. “Fine. I’ll call you back.”

Steve waited less than five minutes for the return call though it felt like an hour. What if he’d misread the attraction, the heat between the two of you? “Yes?”

“If anything happens to her—”

Relief flooded through him. “Nothing will happen to her, Stark,” Steve interrupted. “She’ll be under my personal care.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Tony’s voice was heavy with fatigue and Steve wondered what exactly his conversation with you had entailed.

“Careful, Stark, or I’ll start to take offense.” Anticipation hummed through Steve’s veins as he ended the call. It promised something potent, something thrilling. Things were about to get far more interesting in the Rogers’ household.

***

Your sleek black car rolled to a stop outside Rogers’ house. As you stepped out, you flicked your eyes over the impressive façade taking a moment to appreciate it as you hadn’t the last time you were here. The door swung open, drawing your attention. You weren’t entirely surprised to see Steve framed in the opening in all his imposing glory. His eyes locked onto yours with a predatory gleam that had your heart skipping a beat.

“Welcome,” he greeted as you approached. His shirt outlined his muscled frame when he leaned forward to take the bag from your grip. He stepped closer, close enough for you to breathe in the heady scent of him. His fingers brushed yours as his hand wrapped around the handle of your bag. The touch was fleeting but electric, sparks zipping through your veins. “Allow me,” Steve murmured as he took the bag.

He gestured to your car and two men stepped out behind him to retrieve the rest of your things. He placed a hand on your back and steered you into the house. Roman Carter stood at the foot of the stairs, a leer contorting his features as he looked you over from head to toe. You lifted a brow and returned the gesture. You weren’t even remotely impressed.

Steve’s fingers flexed against your back as he passed your bag off to another minion. “Roman, come meet our guest.”

Roman took your hand in his as Steve made the formal introductions. He kissed the back of it and kept hold of it as he straightened to give you another smarmy sneer. “You’re welcome to stay in my room. We could get in some practice for the wedding night.”

The crack of Steve’s hand against Roman’s cheek echoed through the foyer. The action was so quick and unexpected you wondered for a beat if you’d imagined it. But Roman’s head snapped to the side and he dropped your hand. The red imprint of Steve’s fingers flared against his step-son’s skin confirming the reality of the situation.

“Have some respect,” Steve growled, voice low and dangerous. “She’s to be your wife, not your plaything.”

You stood still, your expression neutral. Roman hadn’t pissed you off enough yet for you to smirk at his misfortune. And you refused to let Steve see how his defensiveness on your behalf stirred something within you. It was entirely inappropriate.

Roman turned his glare to you, his eyes burning with rage as if you had encouraged his humiliation. As if his own stupid mouth wasn’t to blame. When you said nothing, he spun on his heel and stormed away, deeper into the house.

Everyone else seemed to have disappeared as well, leaving you alone with Steve. The ghost of a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “Let’s not let that spoil our day, shall we?” His tone was light, playful, and a mischievous sparkle lit his eyes.

His hand once again found the small of your back as he guided you up the stairs and down the long hall. The plush carpet muffled your steps, but nothing could quiet the pounding of your heart. Gods, what was wrong with you? You needed to get this insane attraction under control.

“Here we are.” Steve’s voice cut into your thoughts. He pushed open the door to show a large room, elegantly decorated. He allowed you to move past him only to lean in, his lips a breath away from your ear. “What do you think?”

You suppressed a shudder as you stepped over to the large window to take in the view. “It’s lovely.”

Without missing a beat, he came up behind you to place his hands on the window on either side of you, boxing you in. He bent his head and breathed deeply before tracing the line of your neck with his nose. “I’ve found myself rather partial to this view myself lately.”

Your breath hitched and your eyes slipped closed. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Is that so?” Your words were far breathier than you’d given them permission to be.

Steve chuckled before humming in agreement. Taking mercy on you, he stepped back. You licked your lips as you turned to face him. “Maybe you’d allow me to see more of it later?”

You studied him for a moment, wondering what his intentions were. Surely, he didn’t go around seducing all of Roman’s women. You would have heard about it by now. “I’m sure you have a lovely view from your own room.”

He pursed his lips and rocked back on his heels. “That’s a rather lonely vista actually.” He reached out and traced a finger along the side of your neck. The touch was light but it burned, searing through your defenses. His skin against yours felt like a promise, a whisper of dark nights and twisted sheets.

He grinned then, as if he’d found the answer to an unasked question. As if he could see every secret thought you’d had about him and those hands. Without another word, he was moving away, steps assured, the king of his domain. But that grin lingered in the air, a challenge left hanging.

As he left the room, you were left standing there with your fingers pressed lightly where his had been. The cool absence of his touch a startling contrast to the heat he’d roused. And you were oh so ready to burn.